


On Growing

by phoenix_feathers_and_cacti



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Dewey is reckless, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Huey is the best big brother, Hurt/Comfort, Louie loves his family, Parent Donald Duck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-05-09 17:32:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14720549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_feathers_and_cacti/pseuds/phoenix_feathers_and_cacti
Summary: Our life is told in separate stories. These are the those stories.Most recent chapter:The kids each handle dangerous situations very differently.





	1. The Weight of Burden

**Author's Note:**

> Ducktales is a weird show because the episodes are being aired out of order, and they go on long breaks, but I still love it so much. Growing up watching reruns of original was nice, and it's like my childhood is repeating itself (ah, the good ole days- I feel old now).
> 
> Anyways, if anybody ever reads any of my stories than you'll know I'm all about that family fluff, and I finally decided to try my own hand at this. I will admit that it's very different from what I normally write, but I'm proud of it and hope you can find enjoyment from it as well.
> 
> If you do somehow find yourself enjoying this story than go check out QueenReagan (#notsponsored) because she has several stories about the triplet's brotherly bond and they are all so good.
> 
> I suppose I've done enough rambling so without further ado, hope you enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day Della disappeared was one painted in gold.
> 
> It had seemed almost fitting in an odd poetic way. Except Donald had never cared for poetry or anything of the sort and he’d much rather have a sister. Uncle Scrooge had never seemed capable of comprehending what Donald wanted, however, and he hadn’t even bother calling to inform Donald he’d managed to lose his sister.

The day Della disappeared was one painted in gold.

It had seemed almost fitting in an odd poetic way. Except Donald had never cared for poetry or anything of the sort and he’d much rather have a sister. Uncle Scrooge had never seemed capable of comprehending what Donald wanted, however, and he hadn’t even bother calling to inform Donald he’d managed to lose his sister.

Della had asked if Donald had wanted to come of course, but Uncle Scrooge had made it clear on their previous adventure that he’d prefer Donald to just stay home. Donald had been more than happy to oblige, and it would become known as one of the worst decisions he’s ever made because Della went and Della didn’t come back.

And all was well until Donald’s peaceful afternoon was interrupted by a knocking on the door. Della’s husband was standing on the other side, clutching three small eggs in his arms, and Donald had known he was going to be an uncle for a while now but he could never have pictured something like this.

“Della’s gone,” her husband announced and he sounded about as well as he looked which wasn’t good, “I need you to watch them until we can get back.”

“What?” Donald asked, blinking dumbly.

The eggs were pushed forward, and Donald’s mind was still stuck on ‘ _Della’s gone_ ’ so he wasn’t even aware when he’d accepted them. Della’s husband was already backing away, eyes shifting back and forth nervously.

“I just need you to keep them safe. I didn’t know who else to turn to,” he explained creeping slowly back, “Della trusted you. Please. We’ll come back and get them together- me and Della.”

Except they never came back.

Della remained gone, Uncle Scrooge never bothered to call and inform him of what happened, and Donald only had the Spear of Selene to go on. It wasn’t long after that night that the eggs hatched, and Della’s kids entered this world much the same way she disappeared from it: young and vibrant and so full of life.

It was fortunate Della had always believed in being prepared, and she’d discussed many times what she wanted her kids to be named. She had always seemed so excited, her face lightning up in ways Donald had never seen. It made everything so much worst when the triplets were born, and Della wasn’t there to see it. The least Donald could do was honor her wishes on what to call them.

The doctor came over and gave Donald a knowing smirk as he watched him pace and fret and wring his wrists nervously.

“First time?” he asked, squatting beside the three little eggs lined along Donald’s bed.

Donald shook his head than nodded as small grabbling noises escaped his throat. He was too nervous to speak because there was a million things that could go wrong and he wasn’t sure what he’d do if three ducklings didn’t enter into this world.

The first one had a round face and big soulful eyes that seemed to absorb everything around him. He was quiet and just blinked up at the world with an inquisitive expression. The doctor reached out to hand the duckling wrapped in a tight red blanket over to Donald.

“Hubert,” Donald announced, giving the small duck a small smile before the nurse took him.

The next one had a squarer head and couldn’t seem to stay still. He squirmed and wiggled and couldn’t seem to stop smiling as he managed to tangle all his limbs in the blue blanket he was wrapped in. It was a bright, contagious smile Donald found he could mimic easily.

“Deuteronomy,” Donald declared as he was removed from his arms as well but that didn’t come out quite the way Della had wished so he corrected, “Dewford.”

The last one’s head was between oval and square and he didn’t smile though he didn’t look any less happy. He seemed attracted to shiny things, reaching out of his green blanket and grasping at buttons lining Donald’s shirt.

“Llewellyn,” Donald said, and the duckling made a face that made Donald smirk as he cooed back, “Yeah. I didn’t care for it much either. How about Louie?”

Louie made a soft gurgling sound as he clapped, and it hurt when Donald had to give him up. The doctor rose and gave Donald an encouraging smile.

“They all look healthy,” he announced and Donald heard himself thank him profusely as the doctor clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a pitying expression as he added, “Triplet boys is going to be a handful. Best of luck, my friend.”

Donald thanked him one more time on the way to the door before he clicked it closed and turned back to Della’s boys. She would have loved them. Donald loved them.

He never called Uncle Scrooge. It never even crossed Donald’s mind.

* * *

 

Parenting was a luxury that never seemed like something Donald was ever going to get. Now he had it, and he wasn’t sure he was cut out for it. Huey had a way about himself that his siblings didn’t possess: Donald found him lying around with papers spread out around him and he could look up at Donald with eyes that made Donald’s heart do a funny dance and get him to do whatever Huey asked.

( _Huey couldn’t speak yet- thank the stars- and Donald was reluctant for when he could and started asking for favors because his smile made Donald’s heart do funny things._ )

Whereas Huey could sit patiently for hours at a time, Dewey was the opposite. He climbed on anything he could and had fallen off even more times. Thankfully, he always seemed to bounce back with a toothy grin and gurgled laugh. That never stopped Donald’s adrenaline to spike every time he walked in a room and watched him take a sudden dive in the air, but the duckling had a string of luck so long he could give Gladstone a run for his money.

( _Except Dewey didn’t seem aware, and even if he did Donald wasn’t sure it would matter- Donald found comfort in that thought._ )

Then there was Louie, who had an affinity of shoving shiny things in his mouth. That had scared Donald the first time he’d caught the duckling with the sleeve of Donald’s old Navy uniform, and he’d jerked it so fast from his mouth that Louie had burst out in surprised tears. Donald’s heart broke, but he’d been firm because Louie could choke and Huey had soon appeared to wrap his arms comfortingly around his brother.

( _Donald started to boil their toys for thirty minutes in hot water because Louie stuck those things in his mouth also._ )

The boys grew faster than Donald had anticipated- and way quicker than his pocket could keep up with. Della never returned, Donald never saw any sign of their father again, and Scrooge had fallen somewhere in the very back of Donald’s mind.

( _And somewhere along there he stopped being Uncle Scrooge and just Scrooge and that should merit some thought but Donald found he didn’t care enough to._ )

They were inseparable, and it made Donald’s life easier whenever he realized if one triplet was in the room than the other two weren’t that far away. Life was good, and the houseboat never seemed crowded. In fact, Donald had forgotten how he’d ever been content with living by himself.

It was only fitting that when one got sick the other two weren’t that far behind.

Donald could never be certain where Louie had contracted it, but he assumed it was from something he’d snuck into his mouth while Donald was preoccupied with one of his siblings. In the end it didn’t matter. Louie still got sick, and had shaved off several years of Donald’s life by his sudden midnight screeching.

Donald tripped on his way to the triplet’s room. He barely felt the ground, scrambling back to his feet and hurrying to where he kept the boys. Huey and Dewey were crowded around their brother- looking flustered and concerned- and Donald gave them a brave smile as he picked Louie up.

He felt warm to the touch and would attempt to shove Donald away as he continued to scream and cry and act very un-Louie-like. Donald’s heart compressed tightly within his chest as he tried rocking the duckling as he moved to the next room.

The doctor who came over took one look at Louie and reassured Donald that he was going to be fine. He gave him some antibiotics and was almost out the door when the other two burst into hysterical crying as well.

All three of them ended up getting a shot- which made their crying louder and more pained before Donald managed to rock them back to sleep one-by-one. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep, though, and it only reminded Donald that he failed as a parent. He didn’t deserve them. Della had trusted him with her kids, and now they’d gotten sick, and it could very well be fatal.

“You care about them a lot, don’t you?’ the doctor inquired as he finished their check-up.

Donald didn’t have to think about it because thoughts of going back to how things were sounded like a nightmare. Just thoughts of him alone in his boathouse made him want to cry.

“I do,” Donald admitted with a soft expression.

“Well they are quite strong,” the doctor reassured, “They will be fine. Just make sure to give them their antibiotics and plenty of sleep, and they’ll be fine in about a week.”

Donald nodded, absorbing the information as he continued to stare down at Della’s boys with a gentle smile. Even drugged and asleep and running mild fevers they had managed to seek each other out.

They were clinging to one another, curling up tightly next to each other and seeking strength from the other two. It was weirdly comforting that they reminded Donald of him and Della in that manner. They’d fight and argue, but they’ll always be there for each other. Donald knew that, and it made his smile stretch to a fond expression.

The triplets were better by the next week and were up back to causing Donald’s heart feel terror unlike anything he’s ever felt before. Ironically, the doctor’s bill came about the same time and it was the first time Donald had allowed himself to worry how he was going to afford it.

He wasn’t rich, and they were barely scraping by with what little jobs he could manage. He had known the house call would have been a luxury he couldn’t afford just like he knew he’d never regret his decision to not even hesitate because sicknesses were dangerous and a life without the boys was one he didn’t want to think about.

Something tugged at his leg, and he looked down to see Dewey attempting to climb up it. He wasn’t as vigorous about it as he normally was since he was still recovering, but the fact he had gained the energy was a good sign.

Donald bent down and lifted Della’s son in his arms, cooing softly and bouncing Dewey on his hip like he read ducklings enjoy as he walked over to his phone.

“I think it is about time you meet your Uncle Gladstone,” Donald whispered, picking up the phone and dialing.

Dewey clapped his hands and gurgled a laugh.

* * *

 

“Uh, I can’t even tell them apart Double D,” Gladstone protested as Donald finished his goodbyes to the boys and moved towards the door.

Donald gave a small sigh because it wasn’t that difficult. Dewey’s hair stuck upwards rebelliously and no matter how hard Donald tried it wouldn’t cooperate, Huey’s face was rounder than either of his brothers, and Louie’s smile wasn’t as wide or toothy but- in an odd way- just as genuine. They could all dress identically and Donald would still be able to pick them apart.

Not everyone was like Donald though, and it was unfair to force them into pretending to be the same just because they looked alike.

“For the last time,” Donald sighed, “Huey wears red, Dewey blue and Louie green.”

Gladstone snorted, crossing his arms and giving Donald a mean look. It was the same look he gave everyone, and Donald had learned to not take it personally but this was about the boys and it made Donald’s blood boil in a familiar manner.

Donald turned his back before he did something regretful. He needed to get going soon anyways, and he really needed this job. He’d been very lucky to get one so soon and could afford to do anything that’d risk it. Gladstone panicked at the rejection and reached out to grab onto Donald’s arm.

“Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait,” Gladstone stuttered, “D-squared, you can’t be serious. How did you even manage to pay for the house call for their hatching?”

Donald narrowed his eyes and glared as he gritted out, “Della had it preplanned. Della isn’t here, and I am all they have.”

He pulled his arm free and allowed his eyes to travel towards where he left the triplets playing with one another. Dewey was trying to climb over Louie’s head, who was scowling and trying to fight his brother off. Huey was playing peacemaker- the ever big brother even if only by a few seconds.

He missed Gladstone’s face as it softened. Growing up they never had the greatest dynamic, and family had always been valued but not in the way Donald felt towards his nephews. It never even occurred to him that Gladstone could have yearned for something similar to that.

( _He grows out of it, eventually, and Donald will forever feel sorry for him because they were the best things to ever happen to him._ )

Then Donald’s attention was back on Gladstone and he declared, “I’ll be back around six. Try to keep them from killing each other.”

Gladstone swallowed and nodded and when Donald returned the triplets were using each other to sleep on as Gladstone watched with almost nervous caution. Donald allowed himself a slight smile before he moved forward to gather the boys.

“I’m not going to leave until you hold one of them,” Donald decided as Gladstone gleefully herded him towards the door.

Gladstone’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. Donald stared back- having his whole life to learn how to deal with his family because Donald wasn’t stupid and he isn’t selfish and he’s always treasured family above everything else. He just wished his was a bit easier to deal with.

“Will it make you get out of my house faster?” Gladstone demanded, and Donald gave a single nod.

Donald handed him Louie, and Gladstone’s face melted into something soft and kind and sincere. It was a nice expression on him, and Donald hadn’t known it, but it was the first and last time he’ll ever see it because Donald found money to afford a babysitter.

It wasn’t until several years later in a fake casino set up to trap innocent people that Donald realized that- even though Gladstone was born with incredible luck- he’d been handed the shortest straw fate could give out: loneliness.

* * *

 

The triplets growing up passed in a happy blur, and it wasn’t until Huey (who seems to absorb knowledge like a sponge and always needs to know more and prepare for everything) looked up at him and muttered, “Dada,” that Donald realized he’d reached a milestone most parents never had to worry about.

Honestly, Donald hadn’t been that worried about it either. He didn’t think of it all that much because each day he spent with the triplets was better than the last. Now his chest had constricted and his eyes grew wet, and he knew what he had to do.

He sat the boys down, putting Huey in the middle to keep Louie and Dewey from wrestling (their fighting always seemed to be a constant) and explained that their mother was gone along with their father.

“I promise I’ll always be there for you boys though,” Donald had finished, “but I’m your uncle. You understand that, right?”

They blinked before saying in unison, “Yes Unca Donald.”

Donald smiled, holding his arms out and they didn’t even hesitate before jumping at him. He gave them a tight hug, thoughts of Della and her disappearance making his chest twist painfully tight, and silently swore that nothing bad was ever going to happen to her kids.

* * *

 

Life moved on and every day Donald learned something new from the triplets. They were so different from one another despite looking so similar (Donald has often thought that because they were identical triplets they tried harder than usual to stand apart) and yet they were all like their mother.

Della would have been proud of them, and Donald hurt when he thought of how she should be the one growing up with them. She wasn’t, and all they had was their uncle, and Donald had never loved anything more than he loved them.

And when they called him overprotective it didn’t even sting because all he saw was Della just suddenly disappearing from his life without any warning, and he couldn’t deal with that again.

Then one day they came home from school, and Dewey had a black eye. Louie and Huey seemed quite upset about it as Louie crossed his arms in an angry pout and Huey would ask every twenty seconds if Dewey needed something.

Dewey was shockingly patient with his brothers so Donald figured he understood their helpless frustration. From what little Donald has gotten from them neither brother had been with Dewey, and Dewey swore up and down that it was just from a door and that he was fine.

“Try to get some sleep,” Donald offered as he rubbed the back of Dewey’s head in what he hoped was a soothing gesture.

Dewey didn’t ask him to stop and didn’t put up much of a fight. He just nodded obediently and moved to oblige. Huey was quick to jump to his brother’s side, setting a gentle hand on his arm and offering whispered conversation as they moved to their shared room, leaving Donald alone with Louie.

Louie had his hood pulled up and hands shoved in his front pocket and seemed to resign himself to glaring at anything and anyone who had the misfortune of looking in his general direction. Donald understood the sentiment, felt his own blood boiling, but he couldn’t lose his temper at the moment.

If he was right (and he really hoped he wasn’t) than it wasn’t a door who gave Dewey that black eye, and the last thing he needed to witness was more violence. His eyes fell upon Louie, and he wasn’t that surprised to see Louie staring at him in that way he hasn’t since he’d been young.

He was waiting for Donald to make everything better. For Donald to say the magic words and Dewey would be okay and everything would be back to normal.

“Is anything else I should know?” Donald asked instead.

Louie shrugged, glancing away and mumbling softly, “Ask Huey. He’s the one who’s been getting notes in his locker.”

Something cold tickled the back of Donald’s neck at the implication, and he’s always known Huey had taken on the eldest brother responsibility without much thought and he hadn’t looked back since. For that Donald was and always be incredibly proud, but he also knew that Huey was still young and growing and needed someone from time to time, and he had found that with Dewey.

But now Dewey had a black eye, and Huey’s hovering made a little more sense now.

“Dewey’s going to be alright, right Uncle Donald?” Louie demanded but his voice was small and childish and lost as his eyes found themselves on the door his brothers disappeared behind, “Like he won’t have permeant trauma from this or anything. Right?”

Donald gave him his best parental smile as he assured, “I have a feeling Dewey’s going to be just fine.”

After all, Dewey was strong and brave and incredibly headstrong- more Della than either of his brothers. Louie’s concerned expression fell back into a pout, and it probably wasn’t easy feeling left out of everything. After all he couldn’t be around Dewey without getting into some sort of argument, and Huey was a warm presence but Louie was the _youngest_ , and it just wasn’t the same as what he had with Dewey.

Donald gave his head a soft pat as he moved towards the triplet’s bedroom- a room only slightly bigger than Donald’s. Huey had graciously given Dewey his bed at the bottom of the triple bunkbed Donald had found at a garage sale and was sitting beside him talking in a soft serious tone.

“-I never wanted this to grow into anything physical,” he was saying with a guilty expression.

Dewey had his head on Huey’s shoulder as he inquired sweetly, “Would it help if I said I didn’t retaliate?”

Huey’s eyes dropped to his red blanket (Donald had offered to buy them different colors at home because Donald didn’t need them to know who was who but they seemed oddly attached to one of the few things that placed them apart to other people) as his fingers continued to fidget with the material nervously.

“I wish you would have defended yourself,” he replied, and Huey was the most pacifist, anti-violence duck Donald’s ever met but his words didn’t come as much of a surprise.

Huey was born a peacemaker, but he was also born a big brother and he had two younger siblings that attracted trouble like magnets.

“Huey, why don’t you go wait with your brother,” Donald proclaimed, “I’d like a moment with Dewey.”

Huey nodded as he slipped from bed and moved towards the door. He turned and gave them one last look before he disappeared. Dewey glanced away, suddenly ashamed.

“How much of that did you hear?” he asked, shoulders tense as he waited to get yelled at.

“Enough,” Donald admitted, “How long has Huey been getting those notes?”

Dewey’s shoulders slumped as he shrugged and whispered, “Too long. I got a few as well, and I imagine Louie got a couple. It was just some jerk, and Huey wanted us to ignore him but _nobody_ should be able to talk to Huey like that.”

Donald knew he should be angry. Heck, he should be furious, but it was strange because he wasn’t. He’d always thought of Huey as being the protective older brother, and it was the first time he acknowledged that they were all defensive of each other in their own special ways.

“Dewey, next time I want you to tell an adult first,” Donald said.

Dewey’s eyes found his as the duckling admitted, “We _did_ or, at least, Louie did. They just said that there wasn’t anything they could do because they weren’t threats and nobody was being hurt, and Huey just kept telling us to let it go.”

Donald swallowed thickly as he made a mental note to call the school and unleash his wrath there because right now his children needed him.

( _And it was so odd because when did they go from being Della’s to his?_ )

“You could have come to me,” Donald noted simply.

Dewey looked away and Donald expected a jab at his temper or some comment about he already doesn’t let them do anything.

Instead Dewey whispered, “You already have so much on your plate because of us. We didn’t want you to bother you.”

“Hey,” Donald said with a firmness that he didn’t quite feel in his stomach, “You and your brothers will never be a bother. Do you understand?”

Dewey hesitated for only a millisecond before he nodded. When Donald gave him a small smile in return he took it as an opportunity to leap in his arms and squeeze around his neck. Donald was more than happy to return the favor, and the bully incident was resolved by the end of the week, and nobody came home with anymore bruises so Donald counted it as a win.

* * *

 

Donald signs up the triplets to be Junior Woodchucks several weeks later, but Louie almost instantly decides it’s not for him. Several days later Dewey makes the same conclusion.

( _He’ll never admit it out loud, but Donald knows it’s because Dewey didn’t want Louie to feel left out or alienated because he’d rather stay at home and his brothers did not._ )

Huey falls in love almost as quickly as his brothers leave, though, and they tease him relentlessly for it. Huey never seems to mind, and only promises that one day they’ll be hiking and need to set a trap for Bigfoot or something, and they’ll be sorry because he isn’t going to help them out.

Louie turns his nose up at the word ‘hiking’ and Dewey pauses before demanding, “Is there really instructions for catching Bigfoot in there?”

Huey plays coy for all of five minutes before finally relenting and showing the book to Dewey. Louie comes to sit next to them and finds something that interests him as well. Donald isn’t surprised- Huey has always had a way with his brothers.

Della would have been proud. Donald sure was.

* * *

 

The Junior Woodchucks’ have an annual camping trip (and that had only been part of the reason Donald had signed his boys up), and Huey packed his things all the while talking animatedly about all the activities planned. It was clear he was excited- as he should be- and his brothers responded with constant teasing.

“I may actually get a decent night’s worth of sleep,” Louie teases, hands in his front pocket (nervous habit) as he sits cross-legged on Huey’s neatly made bed watching Huey pack.

“I think we both know I’m not the reason you can’t sleep,” Huey replied distractedly back, “Have you seen my toothbrush?”

“Have you checked the bathroom?” Dewey asked on his back beside Louie, head dangling upside down from the bed as he alternated between reading his comic book and watching Huey pack.

Huey jumps up and hurries to check. He returns with a red toothbrush held triumphantly over his head.

“I really wish you guys could come,” Huey declares as he settles next to his bag, “It’ll be our first weekend apart.”

Louie made a face as he declared, “Sleeping on the ground and getting eaten alive by bugs. Gross.”

“Yeah,” Dewey declared as he gracefully flipped from Huey’s bed to settle next to his other brother, “Plus other people telling you what to do. _Bo~oring_.”

Huey rolled his eyes and shoved at Dewey’s shoulder. Dewey allowed it with another soft remark about the trip also being full of nerds doing nerd-things and how Huey was going to fit right in. Donald checked the clock and realized they were going to be late if they didn’t leave soon.

“You ready to go Huey?” he asked.

Huey turned to face him, face bright with his excitement as he scrambled to his feet. He slung his bag of stuff, an old brown duffel bag Donald had found lying around.

“Yes Uncle Donald,” he exclaimed excitedly already moving towards him.

Dewey and Louie followed, the bickering continuing in the car ride and all the way to where Huey was supposed to be dropped off. Donald had already called ahead of time and left a list of things the Woodchuck guide needed to know, so all that was left was one last hug before Huey bounced off to climb into the van full of other Junior Woodchucks.

The car was oddly somber on the drive back to the houseboat, and that night Donald found Dewey and Louie curled together on Huey’s bed. Their bedside lamp was still on and they had one of the walkie talkies Donald had bought them for their birthday, and he didn’t have to guess where the other one was.

Unfortunately, Donald didn’t think they reached that far so he set it gently on their nightstand, turned off the light and gave each boy a soft kiss goodnight. The next morning he got a call from one of Huey’s guides asking if he could talk with his brothers.

Donald had given a soft smile to no one in particular as he went to wake up Dewey and Louie.

* * *

 

Jobs were a passing blur- they came fast and went almost as quickly- and he knew it was getting bad when Louie started giving him advice. Donald found he didn’t mind too much, but sometimes mornings were hard and his temper flared in the best of situations.

( _It was a miracle he’s been able to keep it together all this time._ )

Unfortunately, the boys grew more mischievous and creative as they aged, and it was only a matter of time before they figured something out. Donald would have been proud if he wasn’t so agitated, and not necessarily at his boys. He’d been young and restless once, but they needed the money and- more than anything else in this world- he needed them safe.

Even so, it didn’t really come as a surprise when they somehow convinced their normal babysitter that they’d moved to a completely different address so they could hotwire the houseboat to, undoubtedly, go on some grand adventure.

Adventures were dangerous, though. Donald understood that firsthand and would be the first to tell them as such along with many other things, and perhaps that’s why they never took him seriously.

He couldn’t help it. He looked at them and forgot how to breathe when he tried imaging what happened to Della happening to them. It sapped all the anger from him as he herded them into his car and set the GPS to the one destination he never thought he’d ever return.

It was also the first time in a long time Donald Duck had thought of Scrooge McDuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess who my favorite triplet is lol? Anyways, I've opened this story to be various drabbles and prompts and if you have any suggestions don't be shy shouting them at me. I'm very shout-friendly, though I don't have as much free time as I'd like so don't be surprised if it takes me awhile to get to them.


	2. Glass Cases, Little Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’ll be doing something when the room suddenly starts to spin or he’s overcome with dizziness or- when he allows it to get really bad- black spots will start smudging his vision. It was never really a big deal. He’d eat a banana or drink some juice or ask Uncle Donald to make him a sandwich, and he’d be fine within a couple of minutes, so he never bothered telling anyone because it was never a big deal.
> 
> Until it was.

It always starts the same.

He’ll be doing something when the room suddenly starts to spin or he’s overcome with dizziness or- when he allows it to get really bad- black spots will start smudging his vision. It was never really a big deal. He’d eat a banana or drink some juice or ask Uncle Donald to make him a sandwich, and he’d be fine within a couple of minutes, so he never bothered telling anyone because it was never a big deal.

Until it was.

* * *

 

It was supposed to be easy- that’s what Scrooge said. It was also one of those reasons Uncle Donald allowed Scrooge to take them on his adventures while he was off trying to keep a job longer than a day because- despite now living in a mansion with literally the richest duck in the world- he was still set on earning his own money with a job he got by himself.

Dewey didn’t really understand, but Huey would just give him and Louie a _look_ whenever either of them brought it up, so it was probably one of those boring adult things. In the end it didn’t change all that much. Scrooge still found ways to convince Uncle Donald to take them on his adventures.

He never tricked or lied to Uncle Donald about it- probably realizing he was getting a second chance to reconcile with a lost nephew- but he always said it would be easy. Dewey never thought Uncle Donald believed him but would gave in nevertheless.

Except it really was easy. Tedious and required a lot of patience because the thing ( _some crown of some dead person? maybe?_ ) hadn’t been where Scrooge thought it was. In its place were clues, and it took about 0.0012 seconds before Huey found himself glued to Scrooge’s side speaking in cryptic nerd.

And just liked that Dewey was bored.

Webby and Louie were somewhere behind him whispering to themselves. Dewey thinks Louie’s trying to teach her how math works because somehow that’d been neglected in her homeschooling, and she’d only been permitted to come if she promised to work on her studies. Which was gross- school in the summer- but Louie’s always been unnaturally good at math and numbers and had been more than willing to help her out.

If they weren’t triplets Dewey would’ve been convinced Louie was adopted. Or maybe he was the adopted one, considering school never interested him and he was more than capable of passing his classes with minimum effort anyways.

It didn’t seem to matter because Scrooge and Huey were being lame in front of him, and Webby and Louie were being super lame behind him leaving him bored and anxious and eager to do something. Nobody seemed to notice his plight, of course.

Or they just didn’t care.

It could really go either way.

Dewey kicked at the pebbles lining their path. Scrooge had been very specific to stay behind him and remain on the path- not that Dewey understood why. The right side went straight up a hill thick with brushwood. The left went downwards in what would most definitely be a painful and violent fall.

The pebbles he kept kicking were quick to tumble downwards, making soft noises upon their decent. It brought a strange constant and an acceptable enough distraction.

Time became a bit foggy after that. He couldn’t be sure how long they were walking, their voices blending in to the rest of the world so easily. All he knew was that the discomfort that’s been gnawing at his stomach the last couple of hours was no longer a discomfort. He took a moment to try and consider when the last time he ate was and suddenly realized he couldn’t say for certain.

“Hey, does anyone know if we have any of those snacks left?” Dewey called as he tried pushed the thought that he’s never been so careless before but between searching for his mom, taking simple sparring lessons from Webby, and just living in a ginormous mansion with an adventure behind every corner, food took a very back burner.

He couldn’t push it back anymore, though, but that was alright. Even on an adventure in the middle of literally nowhere Huey was too much of a Woodchuck to _not_ have packed supplies. And with those supplies came food.

Huey paused- just like that Scrooge and his riddles were pushed away so he could turn to Dewey. It wasn’t unheard of, Dewey asking for food on trips, but he thinks Huey’s been slowly piecing things together. Even if when those pieces fit together it creates the wrong picture.

Dewey didn’t hate food and certainly didn’t reject it. It was just that he didn’t find a reason for it when he could be doing something else. Something better and more exciting and he wasn’t an idiot. He was aware that this habit he’s allowed himself to cultivate was unhealthy, but it was too late and he was dealing with it just fine.

“Uh,” Huey murmured as he slipped his red backpack to one shoulder and started to rifle through it looking for the food he knew he packed.

Louie was already starting to speak up from behind them.

“I think I ate the last banana in there bro,” he informed them nonchalantly, barely removing his attention from Webby.

“Come along now lads,” Scrooge rushed them impatiently, “We’re losing daylight.”

He didn’t bother waiting for them before he started forward once more. Huey and Dewey stared at each other a moment for a heartbeat longer before Huey turned to follow. Dewey wasn’t far behind though it was with considerably less enthusiasm than before.

His head felt light, and now that he’s allowed himself to dwell on his hunger it was all he could focus on. He didn’t even realize his walking had started to grow uneven until Webby called his name, but by then it was already too late.

“Dewey?” she inquired from behind, startling him.

He blinked, head snapping upright. He opened his mouth to reply but somewhere in his hunger-induced daze he’d wandered too close to the downhill slope. Accompany that with his sudden shock at his name, and it was no surprise when he felt something give from underneath him.

After that was kind of weird.

It was kind of like flying. Except he’s never flown before, but he’s certainly fallen enough times. It was a lot like that. One moment the world was as it should be and everything made sense. The next it was tipping to the side before rolling upside down, and the ground finally met back up with him.

“DEWEY!!” voices called above him, mixing and meshing together in one confusing ensemble.

His back hit earth first and it kind of hurt but it was nothing compared to the sensation of his body remaining to tumble and fall downwards without his consent. He didn’t consciously make it to the bottom, but logically he was aware that he would make it. That was how physics worked, after all.

Physics was the last thought he had before the world went dark so maybe he wasn’t adopted after all.

* * *

 

It wouldn’t be until he woke up in the mansion in his bedroom with Uncle Donald snoring softly at his bedside that he realized he missed all the adventure. It wouldn’t be until long after that that he realized he’d been the reason his family had missed out as well.

Still he’d been the lucky one- he’d pretty much slept through the worst of it.

* * *

 

Dewey rolled to a mockingly gentle stop at the bottom of the hill. His hair was ruffled and tangled in tight knots, dirt and stray sticks smudging the side of his face. The left blue sleeve was ripped, but worse than all of that was how unnaturally still he was laying.

Dewey was never still. He burned with an impatient sort of life- finding himself lost in his own world more often than not- and even when he slept he was still moving and talking and reminding everyone of just how alive he truly was.

Now all of that was gone, and Huey was already starting down the hill before Dewey reached the bottom of it. Louie, who knew both his brothers as well if not better than himself, called out Huey’s name before Huey was even consciously aware of what he was going to do. Operating on muscle memory and instinct now that one of them was hurt.

“Get back here lad!” Scrooge shouted, but Huey was already halfway down the hill as he scrambled in a desperate decent to reach his brother.

“Huey!” Louie repeated, frozen in place.

Not that it mattered considering Webby was clutching his sweatshirt’s sleeve like she was terrified of letting him go. Huey ignored him, and Dewey hadn’t moved, and if Louie didn’t know how his brother slept than he could’ve convinced himself Dewey was just sleeping. Dewey could sleep like the dead and- _nope_ \- that was not an appropriate phrase at the moment.

“Dewey!” Louie tried instead but his brother remained still and silent and _wrong_.

Huey had finally reached Dewey, though, and he was quick to check him over. Almost funny and Dewey was awake than he would’ve teased Huey on being such a Junior Woodchuck in the oddest of circumstances. Huey always just brushes it off with his own teasing remark or gentle shove. All of that was absent because Dewey was hurt and Huey looked moments from losing it and Uncle Donald was never going to let them go anywhere with Scrooge ever again.

“Guys!” Louie shouted as Scrooge finally made it to them.

He knelt down beside them, and the three of them were just silent for a long moment. Louie could feel himself and Webby go crazy by the suspension, but then some of the tension dissipated from Scrooge’s shoulders as he whispered something to Huey.

Huey nodded, wet eyes never leaving Dewey’s limp form. He did reach out to grasp onto Dewey’s hand, and he had that look he got whenever he was worried about one of them. He had it the first time Dewey hotwired the boat. He had it when they lost Webby at Funzo and again when she wasn’t at the beach when they returned from their canoe trip.

And Louie could have guessed that being an older sibling was hard, but he wasn’t _that_ much older and shouldn’t feel so responsible for them. Huey did, though, and in a very odd way it was comforting. If Dewey had been awake- _because he was just sleeping and alive and not the alternative_ \- then he would’ve appreciated it. He wasn’t, but that was still alright. Louie enjoyed it for both of them.

Scrooge whispered something else, and Huey let go so Scrooge could scoop Dewey’s limp form in his arms. Dewey dangled there, eyes closed and face perfectly smoothed out, as their great uncle and older brother made the climb back to the top.

They didn’t even look tired, but Louie’s own body was thrumming with adrenaline and the walk out seemed to go much easier than the walk in. Even with Webby clutching his sleeve as her eyes flickered to Dewey’s limp form, and Huey’s sullen silence as he pressed near Louie. Offering as much support as he was taking.

The rest kind of was a blur.

They made it to the plane, and Launchpad got a serious look as he inquired what happened- which he probably would have done for any of them but it was somehow worst with Dewey because Dewey was Launchpad’s best friend _and_ family. With a simple stern word from Scrooge Launchpad was moving back to the cockpit to get them back home where medicine and help was. Scrooge disappeared with Dewey, and Louie somehow found himself buckled into one of the ship’s seats.

“Uncle Donald is going to flip,” Louie murmured without really meaning to, pulling his hood over his head as if to protect himself from the thoughts whirling in his head.

Dewey was reckless and brash and more than a little intrusive, and it was annoying to live with- sure- but it was also _Dewey_. Nothing bad ever happened to Dewey, and today he just stumbled right off a cliff. Something Louie would’ve previously thought was too careless even for his brother.

All because he was sulking over a banana despite knowing Louie ate when he was adventuring. Except Dewey didn’t sulk. He’d push and tease and get Louie to push back, but he’d never sulk. He was never one to hold grudges and was the quickest of them to forgive and forget.

So what’d happened?

Huey, who’d been pacing back and forth in front of him suddenly turned towards Louie and asked, “When was the last time you remember seeing Dewey eat?” and the pieces just kind of folded perfectly together.

Dewey hadn’t been sulking. He’d been hungry- so hungry it’d distracted Dewey from obvious dangers and he wouldn’t have been hungry if Louie had just kept his hands to himself.

That meant this was his fault.

Louie almost killed his brother.

* * *

 

_“For the last time, this wasn’t your fault.”_

_“How can you just stand there and say that? He would have been fine if I hadn’t eaten his banana, but I didn’t even think about the consequences when I did it.”_

_“It isn’t your responsibility to keep him fed, and it wasn’t like he was exactly forthcoming about it. I just never thought… suspected, sure but never thought. Stupid. I should have confronted him or at least told Uncle Donald.”_

_“You couldn’t have known.”_

_“No? Isn’t that kind of my job to know? Otherwise what’s the point of being hatched first?”_

_“Huey-”_

_“Well it’s not like we can do anything about it until he wakes up._ If _he ever wakes up.”_

_“Don’t say that. He’ll wake up. He’s probably awake right now waiting to jump up and laugh at our worried expressions.”_

_“You shouldn’t pretend to be so naïve. That was a serious fall that could have caused serious injury that leaves room for serious complications. He might not ever wake-”_

_“Do_ NOT _say that! He will because he’s Dewey, and he won’t let a simple tumble keep him down for long.”_

_“I guess you’re right. Sorry.”_

_“Huey, I didn’t mean- Huey!”_

* * *

 

Uncle Donald had been livid- no surprise there- and Mrs. Beakley steered Webby away the moment they got Dewey settled in. Huey wasn’t all that surprised. Webby and Dewey were free spirits, and they’d be lucky to ever get to hang out with Webby after this.

Uncle Donald was with Dewey now, Scrooge having disappeared hours ago along with Mrs. Beakley and Webby. Despite understanding they were trying to give them space, Huey still selfishly wished for their company. They were as much family as him or Louie or Uncle Donald and he knew Dewey would agree.

Dewey was hurt, though, and Huey had allowed him to fall. He’d been there and had seen the glassy way Dewey’s eyes got whenever he was tired or hungry or both, and he’d done nothing.

“Huey!” Louie shouted as Huey started down the hall, tears welling in his eyes from immense guilt because he did this; he allowed Dewey to get this bad.

A hand caught his arm and spun him around and he let out a startled sob as he looked up to meet Uncle Donald’s frantic gaze. He was losing it- like he always did whenever he thought one of them was hurt or in danger. Except this time one of them was.

“Huey!” Uncle Donald demanded as he started to check for injuries, “Are you hurt? Is it your head? Are you-?”

Huey swatted Uncle Donald’s hand away as he murmured wetly, “I’m fine.”

Uncle Donald stared for a long moment before recognition must have sank in because his face dropped to something sincere and soft and reserved all for the three of them.

“I know this is hard for you,” Uncle Donald started but Huey cut him off by shaking his head.

It was hard because it was Huey’s fault. He’d literally just watch Uncle Donald nearly rip Scrooge apart several hours ago, and it had felt wrong because Scrooge wasn’t to blame.

“It’s my fault,” Huey admitted as he wiped his eyes, “I knew something was wrong. I should have said something. I-”

Uncle Donald pulled him into a tight hug, causing Huey to stutter over his words for a brief second before melting into the embrace. It was weird and childish but he felt better in Uncle Donald’s arms.

“Dewey’s going to be alright,” Uncle Donald promised and because it was Uncle Donald- who hasn’t been wrong before, not on the major stuff at least- Huey believed him.

* * *

 

Dewey was floating, but that didn’t feel right so he stopped- suspended in air for the briefest of moments. Then he started to fall.

* * *

 

Uncle Donald was the third thing Dewey was aware of upon waking up. The first being he was in his bedroom, and the second was that his left arm was numb. Uncle Donald was snoring on his right side, which wasn’t how that was supposed to work so he risked turning his head to check that his left arm was still there.

Good news: it was.

Bad news: Huey and Louie were sleeping on it.

Both of them were bent over so they could use his arm as a pillow. Dewey hoped it was comfortable for them as he flexed his fingers to prove to himself he could. When that was a success he turned back to Uncle Donald, who’d stopped snoring.

Even when they were children Uncle Donald could always tell when one of them were awake when they shouldn’t have been. Dewey never understood how and still didn’t but now Uncle Donald was blinking at the three of them with a nostalgic-sort of expression on his face.

The fall must have not been that bad or Uncle Donald was still in shock. Either way he started to mentally count down from five. He made it to three.

“Dewey!” Uncle Donald shouted, happiness making his voice rise several octaves.

Dewey internally winced but melted in his uncle’s embrace. It always made him feel safe when his uncle held him- like he was invincible and nothing could touch him. Soon Huey and Louie were joining in, having startled awake at Uncle Donald’s exclamation.

And, for that moment, everything felt right and okay and good.

Then his brothers pulled away, Huey rearing back to punch him in the shoulder. Louie didn’t look surprised but still eyed them apprehensively. Uncle Donald just made a soft knowing sound.

“What was that for, _Hubert_?” Dewey demanded, though he figured he knew the answer.

“You’re an idiot _Dewford_ ,” Huey shot back and he looked furious, which was never a good sign because when Huey got angry- really angry- he tended to explode all at once.

Dewey didn’t like it when Huey exploded. It took a lot to get him there, and Dewey seemed to have an uncanny knack at it, which could be because of any multitude of reasons.

He wasn’t as close to either Huey or Louie as they were with each other- something he wasn’t sure they were even aware of themselves. He was wild and untamed and had the need to constantly move and that need often irked those that stick around him longer than a couple of minutes. He wasn’t smart or clever or good with his words. He wasn’t like the rest of his family- he didn’t have any special skills or anything to set him apart.

“How could you not eat, Dewey?” Louie demanded when Dewey remained silent- staring at him with a serious expression.

Louie was good at hiding his emotions from others. He put up a mask and hid behind sharp words and witty remarks, so it unnerved Dewey to see Louie so frightened of something. Worst, he was the cause.

Dewey shrugged- his thoughts twisting and sticking together- until he felt brave enough to voice, “It’s not intentional. Somedays I just… forget.”

And that didn’t sound right even to himself.

He cringed, hands twisting in the fabric of the blanket in front of him. Louie- a notorious eater- looked shocked at the admission, and Huey and Uncle Donald looked like they failed.

“It was never a big deal,” Dewey continued, “I handled it. It was fine.”

“This was not fine,” Louie snapped and his anger was hot like Uncle Donald’s and Huey’s but didn’t burn out as quick; he tended to linger on things, sit on his emotions until they bubbled out into something frightening, “You could have died. Do you not understand that?”

He was standing, hands clenched at his sides. Louie was glowering down at him and it would have been unnerving if Dewey wasn’t so, so tired. The only one time he’s ever felt as bad as this was once when Uncle Donald couldn’t find a job and money was practically nonexistent. Food even less so and Louie always found comfort in food, and Dewey never felt the same so he’d lied about how much he’d eaten.

Louie had probably felt slick sneaking in extra rations, and Dewey had been more than willing to give them to him. Eventually the lack of food caught up with him, and he’d grown tired and lethargic and had never been happier when Uncle Donald took them out to dinner to tell them he’d found a new job and it was a good one.

It hadn’t lasted, but none of them really did.

“Sorry,” Dewey muttered dully and it wasn’t enough- it’d never be enough because they were right and he’d almost _died_ \- but it was all he was capable of at the moment.

Huey reached out to clutch his arm and when he spoke it was short and firm, “Just don’t let it happen again, Dewey. Promise us.”

Huey was asking, and Dewey could never deny his brothers much of anything.

“I promise.”

* * *

 

Webby found him outside of Dewey’s bedroom. Huey hadn’t meant to be pacing, but he was. Back and forth, hands twisted together as his anxiety ate at him.

Dewey was fine- was going to be okay. He wasn’t even complaining about all the food Mrs. Beakley was forcing him to eat. Louie was currently with him, watching Dewey like he was going to shatter on them- have been breaking for years. Huey didn’t like to think Louie was right.

Dewey was the strong one. Dewey was brave and strong and so full of life, and it seemed like nothing bad ever reached him. It was one of the reasons Huey hated seeing Dewey sick or hurt or sad the most, and he knew Louie felt much the same. Worst was that their denial at Dewey being anything other than fine made them blind.

Now his anxiety had bubbled up to his surface, and the closest he could force himself to his brothers was outside Dewey’s door, pacing. That was where Webby found him.

Her eyes were wide and earnest and full of concern as she asked about Dewey- asked how they all were.

“Dewey’s fine,” Huey told her because maybe if he said it out loud it was true.

Webby nodded thoughtfully before asking, “How about you?” and it was the first time someone asked how Huey felt.

Huey froze, hands falling to his sides. Honestly he wasn’t sure how he was. Relieved- obviously- and happy that it all worked out but the thought of something like this happening again or the fact that nobody had even noticed made his stomach queasy and palms sweaty and there was nothing helpful in the Junior Woodchuck Guidebook either.

Webby reached out, probably sensing his internal struggle, and set a gentle hand against his arm. She didn’t say anything, though when he looked up at she gave him a soft smile. It helped loosen a pain in his chest, and he found himself smiling back.

And they stood there in silence for a long moment before she finally spoke.

“Dewey’s fine,” she promised, “He’s strong, and this was just an accident.”

An accident that could have been prevented if only Huey had been more perceptive- more curious because he’d noticed his brother’s odd eating pattern and done nothing about it.

“Yeah,” Huey agreed with a hard note in his tone that even he didn’t really recognize, “a one-time thing.”

* * *

 

The first couple of days were easy.

Dewey was forced to stay in bed, but he hardly noticed because someone was always there to keep him company. Mrs. Beakley might have gone a little crazy about trying to feed him, but it was a nice almost motherly gesture. Also, her cooking was some of the best things he’s ever tasted.

Then everyone seemed to realize that Dewey was actually okay and should be chastised for his actions, which they weren’t _wrong_ , but it was still had to hear.

To no one’s surprise- Uncle Donald was first. He was infamous for his overprotectiveness and with that came a special kind of tough love- especially when they did something stupid and put themselves in danger. This was no different, and Dewey had sat patiently with a bowed head and accepted it all without much comment.

At the end Uncle Donald had wrapped him in a tight hug and promised that he loved him and never wanted to see Dewey this hurt ever again (not _that_ much- mind you- but again, Uncle Donald was overprotective).

Dewey was quick to reassure him that he loved him too and that he was sorry, and that it had never been his intention to freak his family out. Uncle Donald tightened his hold, and that had been that.

* * *

 

Scrooge had been next, though he hadn’t said much. He’d lectured for a long time, except it hadn’t seemed relevant. Then at the end he’d turned to ask Dewey if he understood and Dewey shrugged as he replied, “Yes?”

Scrooge had given him a strange look, and they spent the majority of their time after lecture sitting in silence. It was one of the biggest differences between Uncle Donald and Scrooge- Uncle Donald never acted like being around them in moments such as these as being uncomfortable or awkward.

“It’s not your fault,” Dewey reassured because Uncle Donald had never mentioned Scrooge in his lecture but several days ago Louie had said something about being afraid that they were never going to be able to see Scrooge after this.

Scrooge looked startled but shook his head and started to say something.

Dewey shook his head, dropped his eyes to his hands smoothed out over his blanket and repeated, “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known, and Uncle Donald will come to understand that as well. Just give him time.”

Scrooge didn’t reply to that. Dewey couldn’t have been sure if he believed him.

* * *

 

Webby and Mrs. Beakley came together and were actually very short. Dewey never got a chance to say anything, and Mrs. Beakley was a very intimidating woman but it proved she cared and it warmed Dewey’s heart all the same.

* * *

 

Louie came before Huey, which was a shock only because Dewey thought Huey would be right after Uncle Donald. When Dewey chanced to ask Louie about it, Louie just shoved his hands in his sweatshirt pocket and shrugged.

Dewey had given him a teasing smile and said, “You don’t know? That’s not good, considering you’re his favorite brother.”

Louie punched him in the arm- he’s been more tense and angry lately- and growled, “Shut up.”

Dewey continued to grin mischievously at his brother as he continued, “What? Are you denying that you two are the closest between the three of us?”

Louie punched him again, but it was weaker than the first time. His eyes were bright in his fury, glossy with unshed tears and Dewey realized that- like everything when it came to Louie- he was making everything worst.

“Is that what happened?” Louie demanded hotly, “You stopped eating because we-”

“No, no, no,” Dewey firmly protested, “I never stopped eating. I would just forget, and that didn’t have anything to do with any of you.”

His words didn’t seem to bring comfort to Louie like Dewey had anticipated. If anything it only seemed to agitate him even more.

“How do you forget to eat?” Louie demanded hotly.

Dewey shrugged and offered weakly, “It just sort of happened Lou. I’m sorry for freaking all of you out.”

Louie sat down heavily beside him as he asked, “How can I ensure that it doesn’t just sort of happen again?”

“It won’t,” Dewey promised before adding in a more mischievous tone, “Besides I don’t think I’ll ever be allowed out of this house without eating at least three meals first.”

Louie gave him a dirty look, but it was stifled by the humor in Dewey’s smirk. Louie could be vicious and vindictive at times, but he was always quick to forgive family.

“Alright,” Louie accepted in a dull tone, “and if it’s any consolation I won’t eat your bananas in the canoe anymore.”

As it turned out, Dewey had a weak spot for family as well. Especially when they looked as defeated as Louie did at that moment.

Dewey’s smirk grew to a genuine smile as he replied quickly, “Yes you will, and it’s alright. They’re yours.”

Louie gave him a look and Dewey has seen it enough times to know that they were going to be alright.

* * *

 

Launchpad visited him the day after Louie, and they didn’t talk of the accident at all. They just watched reruns of Darkwing Duck and it had felt _perfect_.

* * *

 

Dewey woke up to Huey sitting next to him, holding his hand. Dewey gave a dopey smile, which Huey responded with a disgruntled glare.

“This isn’t a joke Dewey,” Huey chided him.

Dewey’s face dropped as he replied, “I know.”

Huey’s fingers tapped gently against Dewey’s hand as he reassured, “It’s okay. I was just worried.”

“I know,” Dewey repeated, “I’m sorry.”

Huey swallowed thickly and nodded and gave a sharp laugh as he said, “I bet you get tired of saying that. Seriously, how does someone just forget to eat?”

“I don’t know,” Dewey explained, “It would just sort of happen, and I wouldn’t even realize it until later. It never seemed like that big of a deal before-”

Huey sat back with a heavy sigh as he finished, “Before we moved in with Scrooge.”

Dewey shrugged and added, “It wasn’t intentional.”

“I know,” Huey reassured, “and this won’t happen again.”

The words- like most times Huey comforted him- brought a warmth inside Dewey’s chest. Dewey’s dopey grin returned, and it made Huey’s face soften considerably.

“I know,” Dewey agreed.


	3. Family is More than a Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beakley learns some surprising truths about Scrooge's nephews.

“Are you sure this is safe?”

Behind him, Huey could hear both his brothers groan, but he knew that was less because of the question and more of the fact that Huey’s been apprehensive about crossing the rugged rope bridge- that looked like it’s been here since the beginning of time- for the past ten minutes. Webby and Scrooge had already made it safely across and were waiting for everybody else to follow.

Except the bridge was so old they could only risk moving two at a time, and Uncle Donald could only take one of them. It hadn’t taken much longer than a heartbeat later for Dewey and Louie to take a single glance with each other before declaring Huey should be the one who crossed the bridge with their uncle.

That didn’t mean Huey had to like doing it when it became his turn.

Uncle Donald made Huey go first- just in case- before he followed close behind, and he kept making soft noises of panic. It wasn’t that Uncle Donald annoyed Huey, he wasn’t sure that was possible, but Uncle Donald constantly fretting over them every time they venture outside was probably why Scrooge didn’t invite him along on his adventures very often. It was also why Dewey and Louie elected Huey to be his bridge buddy.

“I’m sure lad,” Scrooge reassured, probably as annoyed about Huey’s hesitation as his brothers but he didn’t let it show.

He just held out his hands as if trying to urge Huey along through willpower alone. Huey couldn’t stop, though, because Uncle Donald was behind him, and the only thing Uncle Donald seemed nervous about was Huey on the bridge.

That wasn’t a shocking revelation because Uncle Donald had always seemed fearless despite remaining in a constant state of fright and worry about every little thing. Now that very conundrum was urging him along while he fretted over every step and every creak because Huey was on the bridge, and Huey was one-third of his life.

He didn’t even seem to acknowledge Scrooge, and, though their relationship has seemed to improve since moving in, it still wasn’t perfect. There seemed to be a bitter resentment that may never go away, and Dewey had mentioned how they argued over a Spear of Selene when they thought they were going to die in Atlantis.

Huey hadn’t known what that meant then, and he doesn’t know what that means now but he can’t imagine what could have happened to make Uncle Donald resent family so much.

When Dewey had first told them about it, he’d tried to think of what Uncle Donald would have to do to get Huey to hate him. He immediately decided that that wasn’t fair because Uncle Donald was more of his uncle. He was home, safety, and very little could get Huey to just drop him from his life completely.

Huey took a step forward and heard the rotted wood snap under his weight before a split second later gravity took over and he started downwards. His brothers screamed his name, and he could picture them in his mind.

Instinctively, Dewey would have started forward because when he saw someone- family or no- in trouble he immediately springs into action. Louie would catch him by his arm because one brother in peril was enough for Louie, and Dewey being reckless was somehow worse than Huey falling through a bridge they’d previously deemed safe.

Then, as quickly as he started to fall, he stopped.

Looking up he saw Uncle Donald’s determined face, and he didn’t look scared or even panicked. Somehow, impossibly considering the way Huey’s heart was beating inside his chest, he looked almost calm.

“It’s okay Huey,” Uncle Donald reassured and Huey could already feel himself start to relax, “I’ve got you.”

Huey nodded, allowing Uncle Donald to pull him back onto the bridge. In his chest his heart tried to trick itself back into its normal rhythm. His feet touched solid ground, and it was the first time he allowed himself to be grateful his brothers elected him to cross the bridge with their uncle.

“Are you alright laddie?” Scrooge called at him, Webby clinging to his arm and looking wide-eyed and afraid, which she didn’t look often.

Huey didn’t trust his voice so he nodded once more, hoping they’d get the message as Uncle Donald gently guided him back towards Scrooge and Webby. Huey thinks he probably made the rest of the way much slower and perhaps too cautious, but Uncle Donald didn’t press him to go any faster, and he didn’t fall through any more rotted boards so he didn’t care.

Scrooge enveloped him the moment Huey got within reaching distance. Not in a hug, because Scrooge wasn’t really a hugger, but he reached out and pulled Huey towards him in the closest imitation he’ll allow. Huey welcomed it, relishing in the comfort that was his family, but then he turned around and realized Dewey and Louie still had to make their way across.

Fear bubbled back up in the back of Huey’s throat as Scrooge called, “Alright now lads, slow careful steps!” and it was a testament to how badly Huey had scared him for the usually fearless explorer to demand caution.

Huey couldn’t stop himself from adding, “And watch your footing!”

Surprisingly, Dewey and Louie didn’t offer any snappy responses. Then again, if Huey had just witnessed one of them nearly tumbling to the deceptively gentle looking water beneath them he wasn’t sure how he’d react.

Dewey tried to urge Louie ahead of him, but Dewey had always been brave- rivaled only by maybe Webby- and it didn’t take long for Dewey to take lead. Even so, he made sure to stay near Louie just in case while Louie just clung to the bridge’s side as he crept at an even slower pace than Huey had.

Huey only watched, eyes wide and heart thumping in time with his fried nerves. He wasn’t sure he’s blinked since they started across the bridge, and yet he still feels like- even almost a week later- he missed it.

One moment Louie was there, creeping along by Dewey’s side, and the next he wasn’t- taking all of Huey’s air with him. He just seemed to disappear, wood tumbling into the still water with a slight splash, but Louie didn’t seem to reappear with them.

That was when Huey realized Louie hadn’t hit the water because- even though it seemed to have happened so quickly- Dewey had been quicker. He’d spun around, probably before Louie even realized what was happening, and managed to catch him much the same way Uncle Donald had caught Huey.

Except Dewey wasn’t as big or strong as Uncle Donald, and Huey could see how Dewey was struggling under the new weight.

Louie dangled, seemingly suspended in midair and his face was white with terror, wide eyes locked onto Dewey’s face. And Huey couldn’t see Dewey’s face, but he’s been in enough situations with Dewey to know he probably looked much like Uncle Donald had: calm and comforting and secure.

Dewey was on his stomach, having dived in order to catch Louie, and he didn’t seem to have the strength to stand and pull Louie back up at the same time. He also didn’t seem to be in any hurry to let Louie go, even though Louie’s weight was dragging them both down the hole. So he just laid there, clinging as ferociously to Louie as Louie was him.

Scrooge had already started back on the bridge before Huey had realized Louie hadn’t tumbled into the still water beneath him, but he had to be extra slow for even the slightest movement could send Dewey toppling downwards. Uncle Donald looked like he wanted to follow, but something was stopping him. It took Huey a split second longer than usual before he realized it was because the bridge was moments from collapsing.

“Dewey!” Huey screamed as the shock wore off and was slowly replaced with horror- this was somehow worse than when he’d thought he was going to fall- and his body was itching to rush forward and help but knew he couldn’t, “Louie!”

Neither of his brothers seemed to acknowledge him. Louie’s eyes were wet with his fear as they practically begged Dewey to hang onto him. Dewey did, though his body began to crawl slowly towards the hole as his free hand scrambled to find purchase on anything, and it had to be strenuous. He didn’t let go, though, because letting go meant letting Louie fall and Huey knew Dewey would never let that happen.

He must have said as such to Louie because Louie’s face relaxed the slightest bit- practically undetectable, but Huey saw it all the same. Louie trusted Dewey to not drop him, even as they continued to slip downwards.

In Scrooge’s haste he caused the bridge to jolt, and one of the feet Dewey had wedged into one of the cracks for support slipped and his body lurched several feet forward. Webby screamed, hands squeezing Huey’s arm in her panic. Huey barely felt it, as he watched in numb shock as Dewey’s head and shoulders jerked down the hole.

Somehow- almost miraculously- Dewey caught himself with a blind hand on the opposite end of the hole. His shoulder looked like it twisted painfully, but he didn’t cry out in pain and he didn’t show any signs of panic.

“ _Boys!_ ” Uncle Donald called, and Louie didn’t seem to hear him as his fear drained what little color he had left in his face.

Huey risked a glance, having to force his eyes from his brothers, and realized all the tension and worry was moments from exploding from his uncle. Huey’s stomach soured as Uncle Donald continued to become agitated and the bridge creaked and groaned under all the weight, and Dewey was slipping faster than Scrooge was making distance.

And yet Dewey still managed with only a slight wince and thin voice, “We’re good Uncle Donald!”

The words didn’t offer much comfort because it was obvious Dewey was being brave for all of them.

Louie seemed grateful at the attempt, and he wasn’t crying yet so Dewey must be offering him some kind of confidence only Dewey could sell in such dire situations. And Huey had never understood where Dewey’s constant courage stemmed from, but he knew he’d always been grateful of it in the past. Now was no different, and he imagined Louie felt much the same way.

Scrooge inched closer, but it was too slow. Dewey was hanging in a precarious position, and Louie looked to be slipping, and the bridge just continued to pulse mockingly around them.

Louie was clinging onto Dewey’s hand with both of his, but even that didn’t seem to be enough. It was obvious his weight was dragging Dewey down while simultaneously causing Louie’s grip to slip. Time and gravity suddenly seemed to be working against them, and Huey’s breath caught.

And then, suddenly, Louie wasn’t holding onto Dewey anymore.

Louie gave out a surprised yelp as he started downwards before coming to another abrupt stop as Dewey managed to grab hold of Louie’s green hood. Louie scrambled for Dewey’s wrist once more, but it seemed like sheer luck alone that Dewey hadn’t tumbled down the hole after Louie.

Louie was crying now as Huey screamed their names, and it was the first time he could see Dewey’s face. It was twisted up in pain, but his voice was surprisingly even as he barked at them to hurry up the rescue. That seemed to be the only encouragement Scrooge needed.

He dove forward, and Dewey finally fell completely.

Huey will later remember this moment- this second- as one that seemed to stretch into a lifetime. Dewey was holding onto Louie’s hood even as they both tumbled downwards, and it wasn’t until Dewey jerked to a sudden stop that his hand slipped.

“No!” Dewey screamed, Scrooge’s cane having caught him around the waist.

Louie never got a chance to cry out before he hit the water with a painful sound; a heartbeat of shock later and everyone seemed to jump into action at once.

Louie resurfaced, screaming for help, as Scrooge yanked Dewey out from the hole and tossed him towards the rest of them. Huey’s heart lurched at the sight- of Dewey flying upwards weightlessly before he too started to fall, limbs flailing wildly and eyes wild with a fear he rarely showed, and Huey didn’t have to see Dewey scared very often but he’s seen it enough to know he didn’t like it.

And for a moment- before Uncle Donald caught Dewey as seamless as if he and Scrooge had planned and executed this maneuver a hundred times before- Huey could understand cutting Scrooge from their lives.

Then Dewey was safe and in front of him and Huey couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to embrace his brother in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. Dewey winced, his muscles locking up before they relaxed, and he melted effortlessly into Huey’s arms.

Scrooge hadn’t wasted any time after throwing Dewey, leaping down after Louie. His dive was much more graceful then Louie’s had been, but Louie didn’t seem to mind as he clung as fiercely to Scrooge as Scrooge allowed. Scrooge didn’t seem to mind as he swam them both towards the cliff, and Huey thought that he could see why Uncle Donald could forgive Scrooge as well.

* * *

 

To no one’s surprise, Louie was sick by the end of the day.

He’d sneezed once, and Webby was instantly sent to find her granny. Beakley, who was not a nurse nor a doctor and _why couldn’t Scrooge remember her job title_ , assessed the youth as best she could before calling for a professional.

And Scrooge would have normally turned his nose up at the thought of spending money on something as frivolous as a doctor, but this time was different. He greeted the doctor politely and even accepted the bill before Donald could be asked about it.

Thankfully, it only seemed to be a viral infection, and the doctor recommended plenty of sleep and fluids. Louie just nodded, looking miserable, as his brothers cheekily teased him about his life not changing all that much.

Louie folded his arms and grumbled a bit at them, but Beakley could see their relief that this had been the only thing that had happened. If she was honest, she was as relieved as them.

When they first arrived at the mansion she originally thought they would be good for Scrooge. After all, Scrooge had been so proud of his family as he’d go on and on about his fierce niece or fearless nephew. Then- one day- he stopped, and in turn he became bitter and aloof and alone.

Webby, who’d grown up inside Scrooge’s walls, hadn’t dared to approach him. Choosing to instead admire him from afar, and Beakley still remembered that one time Webby had asked if Scrooge somehow resented her.

 _“Of course not,”_ Beakley had assured, _“He just prefers his privacy.”_

And, at the time, she managed to convince herself of that as she watched Scrooge sink deeper and deeper into this growing pit of despair and solitude he deemed himself worthy of, and nothing she did seemed to draw Scrooge from that.

He stopped adventuring. He wouldn’t leave the mansion unless he had to go to his business or check on his vault, and he was always frowning. Scowling at everything that moved as he muttered vile things under his breath.

Then, one day Scrooge’s nephew called asking if Scrooge could watch the boys.

Beakley had never the chance to meet Della, but Scrooge always spoke highly of her. Even still, she hadn’t been aware she had children or that her sister Donald had always been a ten minute drive away. That didn’t matter, though, because Donald called and family could be good for Scrooge.

The thing she hadn’t accounted for was Webby finding them, nor the way they accepted her in their small group. Unfortunately, that meant when they finally got Scrooge to do _something_ other than mope and make other lives as miserable as him, Webby was dragged into the mix.

Although if Beakley is honest with herself, it’s probably more that Webby leapt into the mix and less of her being helplessly dragged. She’s always been strong-willed with a need to get out and explore the world, and Beakley accepted that with Scrooge she was safe.

And, slowly after Scrooge invited his family into his home, everything started to change. Scrooge started to show signs of that man Beakley had thought had disappeared when his niece had, Webby made real friends, and Donald hinted at the triplets being safe for the first time since their hatching so maybe he wasn’t as resentful as Scrooge allowed her to believe.

Now, with Louie laid in bed and his brothers sitting at his side, Beakley realized just how little she knew about them.

Webby had sitting with Huey and Dewey, though since Louie was sleeping and they had to be quiet Beakley ushered her granddaughter out. Webby had obeyed with a sad face, and Huey had reassured Beakley that they didn’t mind if she stayed. Webby had never been one to sit still, however, so Beakley gave the young red clad triplet her assurance that this was for the best.

Webby disappeared the moment Beakley got her out in the hallway, and she hadn’t seen her since so she probably found her something to distract herself with. Louie’s brothers hadn’t moved when Beakley checked back in on them.

Louie was curled on the bed, snoring a soft nasally sound Beakley made a mental note of, and beside him Huey and Dewey sat. Neither seemed to acknowledge her as Huey had his beak buried in that guidebook he carried around everywhere, and Dewey was on his back reading a comic book.

Neither Donald nor Scrooge were there. Beakley hoped they weren’t at each other’s throats, which sometimes happens when Scrooge’s adventures goes wrong. She didn’t know exactly what happened this time around, but Donald had been too distracted in his fretting to show any outward signs of anger at the time. Beakley knew better than to think that meant anything because one thing that triumphed over Donald’s trigger-happy rage was his concern for his nephews.

 _The closest thing_ , Beakley thinks, _she’ll ever get to the almost forgotten Della._

Not that Beakley thought either Donald or Scrooge made any attempt to forget Della, but for whatever reasons Scrooge has taken precautions to get the world to. Donald made no attempts to get him to stop for whatever reason, though Beakley thinks its grief.

She would have liked to meet Della but had unfortunately came after Scrooge had started to loose whatever part of him Della took when she left. It probably didn’t help Beakley had Webby, and Webby was as inquisitive as she was wild, and Beakley wasn’t able to keep her granddaughter from harm and stop whatever descent Scrooge was spiraling down.

Then the triplets came and brought with them the pieces Della had taken, and Beakley never stopped to get to know them.

They smiled politely at her entry before worried eyes flickered to Louie, who was still making soft sounds on the bed. Beakley checked his temperature- and though a bit warm- it wasn’t anything she found concerning.

She glanced back up to see a twin pair of eyes watching her patiently.

“He’ll be fine,” Beakley reassured- not accustomed to having to reassure others in such situation, “As long as he stays in bed and make sure he eats whenever he wakes up.”

They nodded in sync, Dewey having flipped upright so he could watch what she was doing more closely. He was careful to keep his weight off his left arm, and the realization brought a frown to Beakley’s face.

“Is your arm bothering you?” she asked him.

Huey turned towards him quickly, evidently rivaling Beakley’s concern.

Dewey just fixated her with a blinding smile that was surprisingly convincing as he reassured, “I’m fine. Thank you.”

She nodded, not sure if she should believe him. Huey didn’t seem to as he instantly turned to his brother to start whispering passionately. Dewey just seemed to wave him off, and Huey backed off when Louie gave a low annoyed sound in his sleep.

And- for the first time since the triplets arrived- Beakley saw how easy it was to fall on the outside of their selective group. They didn’t even seem aware, having grown up with each other and not much else and not away of how easy it was to become an outsider around them.

It was a true testament to just how highly they regarded Webby because she seemed to fit so well with them when it would probably be easier to keep her as an outsider. It was the first time Beakley thinks she truly appreciated their presence around her granddaughter.

“If you need anything don’t be afraid to ask,” Beakley said and the two older triplets nodded, Huey having taken Dewey’s arm in his hands and was checking it with a critical eye.

Dewey smiled at her as she left, Huey having taken special interest in Dewey’s arm. Beakley left them with a soft click of the door behind her.

* * *

 

When they first arrived, they made it clear that Huey was the smart one. They were all intelligent, of course, but they seemed to rely on Huey when they needed to know something. It was a habit Webby had quickly picked up on, and though she’s always been fiercely independent it was clear she wasn’t shy at turning to Huey when she needed something.

Beakley hadn’t thought much of that. After all, Scrooge was known for being smart and resourceful and having been around him for so long it was hard to imagine anybody being anything but smart and resourceful. It wasn’t until Webby reemerged that Beakley realized Huey was more than just the smart one.

Beakley had been dusting- not having seen much of anyone since Louie had gotten ill- when she heard the soft voices in the living room. Curious, and a little apprehensive, she made her way towards the sound.

Webby was sitting on the couch, Huey beside her. Webby was kicking her legs- a nervous habit- as her hands twisted her pink skirt into tight knots. It was the first time she saw Huey separated from Louie, but he didn’t look to be in any hurry.

“Louie’s fine. He hasn’t woken up long enough to convince him to eat anything, but he’s always had the uncanny ability to bounce back,” Huey was saying, voice soft and thoughtful and genuine.

Webby nodded but said nothing.

“You can go see him if you want,” Huey reassured as he reached out to place a supportive hand on her shoulder, “He’s not contagious or anything. I’ll wait out here.”

Webby looked at him, and she appeared startled- like the suggestion was outrageous. Beakley had to admit that she too was slightly surprised. After all Webby hadn’t grown up with them, and Huey didn’t owe her anything.

“You don’t want to sit in there with him?” Webby asked.

Huey shrugged and replied almost nonchalantly, “I’ve sat in there most of the day, but you’re his friend too, and if your granny is afraid of overcrowding him then I’ll sit out and wait. Besides, Dewey will get hungry soon.”

Webby met Huey’s eyes, and she looked surprised. Huey smiled back, and it was the first time Beakley realized that despite all being the same age Huey obviously took being the oldest very seriously, and that instinct had stretched over to Webby.

Webby’s eyes shifted over to where Beakley was standing, and her eyes widened pleadingly. Huey turned to see what Webby was staring at but said nothing.

And Beakley had been eager in agreeing with watching Scrooge’s great nephews because she thought it would be good for Scrooge. She never could have imagined how it would have affected her granddaughter, and it wasn’t something she’s thought of before.

Now, with Webby practically begging her with her eyes and Huey waiting for her response, she realized it had been wrong to usher Webby out of Louie’s room prematurely. She’d probably spent the majority of the day fretting, so Beakley did the one thing she hadn’t thought she would ever do.

She nodded, giving Webby permission and she gave a small excited yelp as she leapt from the couch to run to Louie’s room. Huey smiled fondly, and Beakley had always known Donald had raised good kids but she’d never allowed herself to see at just how welcoming they’ve been.

She wondered if that was in part of how they were raised or if it was because they’ve always yearned for a friend their age- one that wasn’t related by blood. Either way, it was clear that Webby was as much family to them as they were to each other.

It was a curious thought but not an unwelcome one. Beakley had always thought Webby had needed friends her age, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit that there was no better friends for her than Scrooge’s great nephews.

* * *

 

Not even twenty minutes after Webby had run off to see Louie, Beakley found Dewey in the kitchen. He was by the stove, which triggered an alarm inside Beakley’s head.

Out of all the triplets Beakley knew Dewey was the most like Webby in that he always seemed to be moving and didn’t cower at the idea of a challenge, and Beakley had never let Webby by the stove for those very reasons.

“Whoa,” Beakley warned as she closed the distance between them, and Dewey glanced up long enough to give her a bright smile though this one seemed a bit cheeky.

“Hey Mrs. Beakley,” he greeted in an almost carefree tone, “Louie woke up, and Uncle Donald told us not to bother you so I was getting him something to eat.”

Beakley stopped by the stove, about to reach out to turn it off when she realized Dewey wasn’t treating the stove like most kids his age did. He didn’t look to be overflowing with curiosity about what each of the knobs did nor was he treating it with the caution of someone who’s never used one before.

It was all familiar, graceful movements as he tested the soup he was making. He made a noise of approval before turning the stove off.

“Would you like some?” Dewey inquired as he seemed to realize Beakley was still hovering over him, “I’m not as good a cook as Louie, but he’s- you know.”

“Where does a kid your age learn how to cook?” Beakley asked as she grabbed the bowls before Dewey could reach for them.

Dewey shrugged, accepting the bowls with a bright smile as he poured the soup in neat portions. He didn’t show any outward signs that his arm was bothering him, but he was careful to keep too much weight off it.

“Uncle Donald was always gone, working jobs for us and considering Huey’s cooking is rubbish it sort of fell onto me and Louie,” Dewey explained, “but, like I said, Louie is better at it.”

Beakley nodded as she watched Dewey place one bowl on the counter before he started to fill up two more bowls as he continued, “I made some for Huey and Uncle Donald because I don’t think they’ve ate that much today.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Beakley noted as she grabbed a serving platter from the cabinet and started to line the bowls on it.

Dewey shrugged- small and young and innocent and, like Beakley had observed earlier with his brother, kind hearted.

“Perhaps you should eat something yourself,” Beakley noted before asking, “Would you like some ice for your arm?”

Dewey glanced down at the arm he’d been treating gently, before giving a soft shrug.

Beakley ended up giving him ice with a towel wrapped around it and firm instruction to stay off it for a couple of days. He beamed, nodded and promised he would before he set off to find his family and Beakley thought how nice the changes Scrooge’s family was bringing to the mansion.


	4. The Fall of the McDucks (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The kids each handle dangerous situations very differently.

It had just supposed to be a game.

An actual game and not one of you-are-lucky-if-you-escape-in-one-piece games Webby liked to play. Lena had been the one to suggest it, and she had surprised them all with something as normal as hide-and-seek. Not that Huey thought she wasn’t normal, but there was just something about her that struck Huey as a little off.

After all, there had to be a reason her and Webby clicked so quickly, and Huey still remembered the situation they’d been in when they finally managed to track Webby down after returning to find her missing from the beach. There was just something there that tickled at Huey’s instincts.

Dewey and Louie seemed to share Huey’s initial surprise at Lena’s suggestion but that quickly changed. Dewey’s shoulders drooped at the seemingly mundane suggestion as he’s grown accustomed to Webby’s more exciting and dangerous games; whereas Louie perked up at the relief of doing something they used to when they were younger.

Webby just jumped at the thought of something new and exciting sounding as she exclaimed, “I’m the best hider!” which Huey knew was true.

He still remembered how she had seemingly melted from one place to the next while they’d been playing darts. This time would be different, though, because there was no way Webby could twist this into being violent. He’s ninety percent sure.

“Perhaps we should team up,” Huey suggested suddenly nervous at randomly being attacked by an overzealous Webby.

Webby, who’d previously been practicing the various fighting poses she knows, deflated as her shoulders sagged and she pouted, “But an extra person is just extra weight I have to carry around.”

“That’s also not the traditional way of playing,” Lena pointed out with crossed arms as she regarded him thoughtfully.

Huey was just trying to escape the night with his life, and it looked like Louie was the only one thinking similarly with him. Louie was smart enough to tell when a point was mute, though, so he just crammed his hands in his front pocket and said nothing.

Dewey didn’t speak either, but his face turned bright when it became clear that the girls weren’t going to let Huey ruin their game with his many rules. Huey thought that wasn’t fair, but since Dewey remained mercifully quiet so did he.

Instead he resigned himself to ask, “Alright then, who wants to be it first?”

“ _Loser-says-what_ ,” Dewey shouted, syllables smashing together in a seemingly single word.

Huey blinked before stupidly asking, “What?” which earned an excited whoop from Dewey and knowing smirk from Louie and sometimes his brothers really did drive him crazy.

Huey sighed as he felt the beginnings of a long night- even as he covered his eyes and started, “100-99-98-”

* * *

 

Huey wasn’t sure if his brothers had just gotten really good at hiding or if the fact it had seemed so easy when they were younger was because they were limited to Donald’s houseboat. Either way, his hope at finding one of them and restarting the match was dashed by the fact that he’s looked for the past hour and a half and have found no one.

He was tempted to scream in frustration, but then he heard voices in one of Scrooge’s spare rooms.

His excitement at finally having a lead in this game triumphed the usual caution he expressed in situations. He only gave a brief thought to why someone would be speaking while they were supposed to be hiding.

He didn’t even hesitate before throwing open the door and exclaiming, “Ha-ah!”

Lena startled, and it was the first time Huey thinks he’s seen her frightened before- a far cry to the aloof girl that looked as unshakable as she was independent. Then, as quickly as it came, it was gone- though Huey could have sworn he saw her shadow morph back into Lena’s figure.

She crossed her arms and replied dryly, “Oh. It’s just you.”

And Huey had always been willing to give her chance even after she terrified Louie or mocked the three of them for being the same because Webby needed someone like Huey had Dewey and Louie. She needed a friend who she could share things with, and Lena had seemed to be that friend.

That didn’t mean Huey had to appreciate how she always seemed to look down on him or his brothers. He hadn’t tolerated it when they were growing up and their classmates realized they’d grown up with their uncle on his boat, and he wasn’t going to put up with it now.

He crossed his arms and demanded with a snark he rarely allowed himself to show, “Did you forget we were playing a game that _you_ had suggested?”

Lena blinked, realization filtering across her features, and she must have because- for the briefest moment- she looked guilty. Then she blinked, and it was gone- back to being the expression she reserved for them.

“Let me guess: you are really bad at this game,” she shot back.

Huey felt the familiar sensation of anger starting to boil in his stomach, and he was aware of his short-temper though very few others are. It was part of the reason he leapt so excitedly at being a Woodchuck as they give him productive things to focus his anger or anxiety on.

And, for the most part, he’s able to keep those feelings to himself but something about how Lena always seemed to talk down to him and his brothers lit something hot and ugly in his belly.

“I’m just not used to playing on such a large playing field,” he barked defensively before something suddenly occurred to him and he asked a little gentler, “What were you doing any here anyways?”

Lena blinked, taken aback, before rolling her eyes and spoke like one would a very small child, “Hiding, obviously. The name of the game is hide-and-seek after all.”

Huey squinted, the hot thing in his stomach now rolling and twisting and begging to get free, as he inquired suspiciously, “Then who were you speaking with?”

“I’m warning you kid,” Lena threatened, taking a step towards him and something in her eyes changed- became darker.

It was the first time Huey thinks he’s ever felt afraid of Webby’s friend. Annoyed, certainly, followed quickly by exasperated and protective big brother fury (because Louie still acted dodgy around her and she conveniently couldn’t ever remember Dewey’s name and he has enough issues with that as is) but never afraid.

But then whatever he felt didn’t really matter because he was suddenly spiraling into darkness.

* * *

 

_They were in Scrooge’s garage playing with the more harmless artifacts when Dewey walked over to the painting of Donald acting adventurous. They had immediately dismissed it as being a fake earlier because Donald didn’t do adventures. He didn’t do dangerous or crazy or much of anything really._

_No, he made them sit and stay and follow ever rule he could come up with because he was afraid of something happening to one of them- and everyone knew that if something happened to one triplet then the other two weren’t far behind. After all, they were brothers and brothers stuck together. No matter what._

_Though sometimes Huey worried about the ‘_ what _’ in that because Dewey could get himself into some pretty weird situations. Like the time he ran into an obviously heavily booby-trapped Atlantis or when he joined a hedge-trimming cult (?) because he’d wanted something to set him apart._

_Or, now, when he set the box by the painting so he could lift up the corner, and there painted in brown and gold and white was Della Duck in all her glory._

_Uncle Donald had been adamant when they were younger to never call him their father because he was their uncle, which meant his sister was their mother. That was about it- save for the occasional picture he’d forgotten he owned until one of the kids got their hands on it._

_Otherwise Uncle Donald never spoke of her, and when they came to live in Uncle Scrooge’s mansion they were quick to discover he didn’t either._

_Despite all that, though, Dewey still recognized her instantly with a slight, “Mom?”_

_Then the image changed, swelling like ripples on water, before Dewey was standing in Webby’s room, and Huey realized that must have been the day he went camping with his fellow Junior Woodchucks because when he returned both his brothers had insane stories to tell him. Now some part of him realized they hadn’t been exaggerating, but it seemed Dewey had left some important things out._

_He told Webby, which hurt, and asked her if she knew anything._

_She didn’t. Of course she didn’t, she wasn’t family. Huey and Louie were family, and he couldn’t remember when Dewey even mentioned their mom since moving in with Scrooge. Then the horrible thought that Dewey had told Louie and that they both decided to just not tell him crossed his mind, and his stomach rolled in familiar rage._

_That turned out to be just a harmless thought- thank goodness- as the scene changed to Dewey and Webby standing in what appeared to be a library as Dewey decided not to tell his brothers. Webby gave him a pensive expression, but she wasn’t family and it wasn’t her secret to tell._

_Dewey should have said_ something _, though. He should know better than to keep secrets from them, but then again Dewey’s always been determined to stand out from them. From only child day to this. Huey wasn’t sure which he was disappointed in more._

_He wasn’t even aware that he had been fuming like Uncle Donald does whenever he gets really upset about something until it was already too late. And it wouldn’t be until much later that he realized that there was probably more but it got disrupted by his sudden fit of rage._

* * *

 

Louie was bored, and he knew Dewey was as well.

It had started off fun- especially considering they managed to trick Huey into being it- but thirty minutes into the game Dewey had just appeared where Louie was hiding. Which had been the pantry because sometimes playing these games made him hungry and _don’t judge him._

Dewey wasn’t there to judge him, though. His agitation at having to sit still for so long with little to no stimulus had finally drove him to the edge, and he’d decided he had a high chance (he’d said it had only been 60:40 but Louie knew Dewey knew better and was only trying to comfort him in his own Dewey way) that Louie had hidden in the pantry.

Obviously, he was right, but then again Dewey had the uncanny ability of knowing where his brothers were. It was why, as a silent rule, Huey and Louie never let Dewey be it first in hide-and-seek even though choosing Huey seemed to be a mistake as well.

And Louie had panicked when Dewey first decided to squat in with him, but that was almost an hour ago and Louie was almost grateful that he had. Not that he’d ever tell that to Dewey, who was rearranging the cereal boxes based on the coolest prize offered inside.

“Is Huey ever going to find someone?” Louie exclaimed suddenly, annoyed at having to hide for so long.

Dewey gave him a curious expression as Louie wasn’t one to get impatient. Louie knew and understood that, but something uneasy had settled into his stomach and had mixed with his boredom to create a toxic sort of feeling. Plus his phone had died ten minutes ago and he left his charger upstairs in his bedroom.

“Maybe he already has and we just don’t know it yet,” Dewey suggested, setting down the cereal box he had currently been holding before he added thoughtfully, “Perhaps we should go check and see.”

Louie crossed his arms incredulously, though the idea had urged something inside of him. His nerves seemed to be itching to go and check to make sure Huey hadn’t given up on finding anyone or something.

But he had a reputation to uphold so he demanded, “And risk getting caught? No thank you.”

“Fine,” Dewey shrugged nonchalantly as he moved past him and out of the pantry, “I’ll just be real quick and see. I thought I saw a rat in there anyways.”

It was a lie- and an obvious one at that- but just like Dewey’s had the uncanny ability at finding them wherever they hid, he can trick them into following him into doing something stupid as well. Louie had already started to bolt the moment he heard the word rat.

Dewey snickered victoriously so Louie punched his shoulder before folding his hands in his pocket so he could slouch and grumble, “You’re a major jerk.”

Dewey didn’t comment, and sometimes Louie wondered if Dewey ever got offended. He never looked like he did, and he certainly never looked like he did whenever someone calls him ‘the other one’ or ‘bluey’ when they clearly can remember Huey or Louie’s name. Louie wasn’t even sure why so many people struggled with that at all. It wasn’t like their names didn’t rhyme or anything.

But, unlike those times, Dewey never seemed bothered at the names Huey or Louie would throw at him. Sometimes it was like he never even heard them- lost in his own little Dewey world, which was perhaps why some people think Huey and Louie are the closest out of the three of them.

They’d never dream of excluding Dewey, though, and Louie definitely feels like he could go to Dewey about something before he could Huey. Not that Huey wasn’t good at listening or being patient or even giving out advice. If anything Huey was the best at those things, but Dewey was Dewey and Louie’s always moderated towards him.

“Now if I was a nerd who can’t play hide-and-seek, where would I hide?” Dewey pondered thoughtfully after a long stretch of silence.

Louie disguised his snicker as a sneeze. He wouldn’t want to give Dewey a big head at him laughing at one of his lame jokes.

Not that it mattered. Dewey gave him a knowing smirk, which Louie returned with a muted glare. Sometimes, especially recently, Louie’s forgotten how easily Dewey was able to read him, and it was annoying.

Someone down the hall gave a surprised yelp, startling both of them.

Louie’s heart started thumping wildly in his chest as he realized he recognized that yelp. It was almost like something straight from his nightmares- Huey making that soft defenseless sound. It should have reminded them that they were as equally defenseless and should go find someone more capable, like Scrooge or Mrs. Beakley or Webby, but Dewey was already sprinting down the hall with a sharp command for Louie to find some help.

Louie didn’t really have to be told twice and found Webby in the foyer already hurrying towards the sound. She didn’t really spare him a second glance, which he found didn’t bother him consider his heart was trying to escape through his throat. The real surprising part was the fact that he followed her without having to be told.

Then again, it was Huey and Louie still remembers how he felt when Mt. Neverest came down before his brothers had, and Louie has no problem joking about being Scrooge’s only heir but the reality was something he’d never wish for.

Except- when Huey and Dewey finally came into view- it was to Huey pinning Dewey on the floor as he swatted weakly at him. Dewey didn’t fight back, just held his arms up in self-defense. Louie felt his stomach sink in that way it did whenever Huey and Dewey fought.

“What’re you doing?” Webby shouted as she attempted to wedge herself between them.

“He lied to me!” Huey shouted as Webby pulled him off of Dewey, “He’s been looking into what happened to Mom! He knows what happened to her!”

Static filled Louie’s ears; he shook his head to clear it as a shocked Webby turned to Dewey and asked, “You told him?”

Which implied she knew something Louie did not. Like how Huey suddenly knew something he didn’t- something Dewey’s been keeping from them.

“I didn’t,” Dewey explained quickly, “I found him lying on the ground, and when I shook him awake he just started shouting at me.”

Words. Meaningless words.

Both Huey and Webby looked like they wanted to say something, but Dewey was still on the ground looking incredibly guilty and Louie was suddenly having a hard time thinking.

“You what?” he demanded sharply- not sure whom he was directing the question to.

Dewey flinched like he thought it was to him, which it might have been considering Louie hadn’t felt a guilty jab like he normally would have. Dewey’s been keeping secrets. Secrets about their mother, and _how could he not think they’d want to know?_

“I- uh-” Dewey stumbled, “I didn’t want to hurt you. Either of you.”

“So you decided lying to us was better?” Huey demanded angrily as he lunged at Dewey once more but Webby caught him easily, “You decided keeping this from us was any better? How could you? She’s our Mom!”

Dewey shook his head as he protested, “I didn’t-” but then the ground underneath them gave a violent lurch almost as if the earth itself was shaking.

Louie lost his balance and fell, but the shock numbed the pain.

And it wasn’t like Dewey didn’t have his secrets. He obsessed over finding something that separated him from the rest of them, and sometimes he’d leave the mansion to go hang out at Launchpad’s and return with this look in his eyes that said he’d probably almost died like three times, and Huey and Louie were more than willing to let him keep those things to himself.

This was about Mom, though, and he’d told Webby over telling his own brothers.

He wasn’t even sure when he gathered his feet underneath him or when he started to move. All he knew was that Webby had been preoccupied at keeping Huey back so no one bothered to stop him from slapping Dewey’s face.

Dewey let him.

That was probably the worst part. Dewey could have stopped him, would have known Louie wouldn’t have fought him any further. It was just pain, and Louie would learn to get over it, but because Dewey didn’t even try meant that he believed he deserved it. He knew this was coming, and he still hadn’t cared.

“How could you?” Louie barked, balling his hands into fists and shoving them in his pockets as if not to accidently strike at his brother again.

“I’m sorry,” Dewey apologized without looking at him, still on the floor with his head bowed and looking guilty.

And Louie wasn’t an outward violent person. He relied instead on cleverly placed schemes and cons to get what he wanted- especially when that thing is revenge. This, however, this burning desire to _hurt_ Dewey was something new and not entirely him and when he turned he saw Lena.

Except she only _looked_ like Lena.

Her eyes appeared to be a solid black with red slits, and her smile was twisted and ugly as the shadows of the room seemed to dance around her. Louie subconsciously stepped back, frightened by the strange sight.

Underneath his feet, the ground shook once more.

“Poor baby ducks,” she chided in Lena’s voice but it sounded wrong, “Betrayed by your own brother. How very sad.”

She stepped towards them, hand outstretched in front of them. The shadows stilled as the ground gave one last violent shake before a snapping sound filled the air.

“Louie!” Webby cried, abandoning Huey to tackle him from out beneath the crumpling ceiling.

And Louie wasn’t proud of the way his body just naturally locked up at the sign of danger. He wasn’t proud of how Webby had to jerk him to his feet and even that wasn’t enough to shake him from his stupor. Not that it would have mattered.

The ground gave out, and the pit it created swallowed them whole.

* * *

 

Huey and Louie’s screams echoed in Dewey’s head as he fell. They mingled with the noise of the floor caving in on them as the rest of the house went making his head buzz.

Then he hit ground, barely managing to land on his feet. It hurt more than usual- more than it defiantly should have- but he didn’t get time to think about it because Huey was still falling and screaming and Dewey wasn’t sure which was louder: the sound of his heart thumping wildly around in his chest or the sound of the debris falling and crashing around him.

“Huey!” Dewey shouted, leaping forward with his arms outstretched as if he could catch him.

Instead Huey toppled on top of him, and they both went down. This time the ground seemed a lot less soft, and he groaned under the crushing weight. Concern kept him from immediately trying to shove Huey off of him.

“You okay?” Dewey groaned, shifting as if to give Huey the message that he wanted him off him without trying to push him away.

Huey did get the message, jumping to his feet and turning back to Dewey. Dewey rubbed at the spot on his head that Huey had managed to smack on his way down as he resigned himself to staring up at an angry Huey.

And his cheek was still sore from Louie’s slap (Louie’s always had a good arm for someone who could be so lazy at times) but Dewey knew the pain would eventually fade. The betrayed expression Louie had given him would probably be forever burned in his memory.

It was no secret that out of the three of them Louie was the most sensitive. He could fall apart so easily whenever Huey and Dewey got into some of their more major fights and didn’t handle dangerous situations well. That had been why when he’d slapped Dewey it hadn’t really been a surprise.

He’d been upset and probably confused and when Dewey had looked at him he looked to be moments from coming undone completely, and Dewey would have normally _hurt_ the people that made Louie look like that.

Or at the very least scare them whenever Huey caught scent of it and would try to lecture him on how violence was never the answer.

This time Dewey was the one who’d hurt Louie, and from the expression Huey was currently giving him he’d hurt Huey as well. Which it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought they’d be angry at him keeping secrets from them, but he’d never imagine this. He never thought he would be able to look at them and know how Scrooge must feel every time Uncle Donald looked at him.

The ringing inside his head continued, and he was more than willing to face his comeuppance but things were still falling from the sky and they just didn’t have the time to sit around and yell at each other.

“Later,” Dewey promised scrambling to his feet and latching onto Huey’s wrist, “but first we’ve got to move.”

Huey didn’t fight him as they ducked and dodged the things crumbling down after them, but eventually they realized they’d been running blindly down one of Scrooge’s many secret tunnels underneath his house for almost five minutes and were lost.

Huey slowed to a stop, jerking his hand free.

“Way to go _Dewford_ ,” he snapped peevishly, “Now we’re lost. I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”

“I’m not,” Dewey tried but Huey’s glare made the words stick in the back of his throat so instead he asked, “What could I possibly be pleased about in this situation?”

Considering they were both lost and tired and Dewey had already found Huey passed out once today and _why hadn’t the ringing stopped?_ Huey crossed his arms and continued to glare. Evidently he wasn’t amused by Dewey’s sudden attitude, and normally Dewey wouldn’t have hesitated to stroke his brother’s ire because it could be amusing at times.

Nothing about this situation was amusing, and the only consolation he had was that Webby had been with Louie when he fell. She had to be. She had to make sure Louie was okay. She had to-

“Oh I wouldn’t know,” Huey shot back hotly, “You’re not exactly in the habit of telling me things.”

Dewey actually flinched beneath the words. The words stung, sure, but it was the expression on Huey’s face that had Dewey’s throat swelling up like a balloon. He’d never dreamed of hurting Huey this badly, which had been part of the reason he hadn’t immediately ran and told them about it.

Because Della Duck was their mom, and perhaps the only thing Uncle Donald wouldn’t talk about. He probably would have if they bugged him enough, but he got this look in his eyes like he wasn’t quite over whatever happened to her- a look that was mixed with pain and lost and defeat. They could never bring themselves to push him after that.

Then Dewey had found a way to find out about her without hurting Uncle Donald. Now, in his haste, it seemed he only managed to hurt his brothers in a way he never wanted to.

“Huey, I’m sorry,” Dewey apologized, head bowed.

“I don’t want to hear you apologize,” Huey snapped back, “I want to know why you didn’t tell us. Why you felt like you couldn’t come to us about this.”

_Why._

It was a fair request, but something about it still had Dewey reeling.

And- in his mind- he’d imagined that he’d be able to tell Huey and Louie something he’d discovered, something about why Mom left them, to help alleviate the immediate betrayal. He’d never thought that Huey would have found out on his own or that Dewey wouldn’t have made any progress in his investigation.

This was real, though, and this was happening so he sucked in a deep breath and said, “I didn’t want you two to think she left us. I didn’t want you to think she’d _abandoned_ us.”

His confession seemed to take Huey aback as the angry expression momentarily fizzled into one of a lost child. Somehow that hurt more.

“Why would we think she abandoned us?” Huey asked, voice tight with a fear he probably hadn’t been aware of until now.

“Because I saw her letter,” Dewey explained, “She told Scrooge that she was taking the Spear of Selene and left. She-”

His voice cracked, and Dewey knew he was moments from that as well. He felt his entire body begin to sag under the weight of this burden he’d been carrying around for months. All these secrets he shouldn’t have kept from his family but had anyways because he’d been _afraid_.

Dewey’s words only seemed to succeed in upsetting Huey more than he already was. All this time none of them had dared stopped to consider what if their Mom had abandoned them. It had always been something out of her control.

Then Huey’s face hardened back into an impassive mask as he demanded, “What is it you’re not telling me?”

Dewey’s head shot up so he could stare in his brother’s intense expression as he babbled, “I- that’s it. Me and Webby found her note to Scrooge, and that’s it. I don’t know what’s happened to her.”

“I’m not talking about that,” Huey replied carefully, “There’s something else. There’s always something else with you.”

This time Dewey didn’t flinch at the words.

He swallowed past the growing lump in his throat as he resigned himself to get through this without falling apart. Huey had asked, and Dewey was done keeping secrets. He just wished he was better at his words.

“I guess I just wanted to be special,” and as soon as the words left his mouth he knew they were wrong.

Huey flickered back to being angry as he retorted, “So going off to figure out what happened to our Mom was what? Just another of your crazy schemes at standing out.”

“No,” Dewey reassured quickly, “I only meant-”

“What Dewey?” Huey shouted, seconds from losing it, “What could you possibly have meant?”

“That I’d always been like Mom!” Dewey snapped before he could think about it, and at Huey’s startled expression he continued at a much more resigned tone, “Both Scrooge and Uncle Donald have both said it, and I always thought that was the thing that made me special. But what if Mom was a bad person? What if she left? Does that mean _I_ -?”

“Hey. Whoa. No,” Huey quickly reconciled his anger almost forgotten at the painfully honest expression Dewey had, “Mom didn’t leave us, and she wasn’t a bad person.”

And the pit Dewey’s felt himself falling in ever since Huey’s eyes had snapped open and accused him of keeping secrets from them finally found its bottom. Dewey finally managed to ground himself with Huey’s genuine expression.

Dewey flashed Huey a tentative smile, stomach rolling as he anticipated a response. If he’d been honest, he hadn’t expected for Huey to reciprocate or set his hand firmly against his shoulder in a silent promise. But Huey did and Dewey heard it all the same.

“Thanks Huey,” he muttered.

Huey’s smile grew momentarily before his face settled back to a hard expression as he growled out, “Don’t think we’re not done discussing this.”

“I know. I know,” Dewey resigned though he felt considerably lighter than before, “I should have never kept this from you two. I just got so scared.”

And Huey looked like he understood if only slightly.

“Aw. Isn’t this sweet?” a familiar voice mocked from behind Huey as the shadows seemed to start dancing under Lena’s feet.

Dewey stepped back, arms in front of him in a defensive gesture. Huey went with him as he took care to keep himself between Lena and Dewey, though Dewey wasn’t entirely sure that Lena was the one standing before them.

She looked like Lena and sounded like Lena, but something wasn’t right. Her mouth was twisted wrongly around the edges, and her eyes almost looked slanted. Around her neck dangled a red medallion that seemed to pulse to Dewey’s heart.

“What do you want Lena?” Huey demanded as they continued their slow creep backwards.

“I don’t think that’s Lena,” Dewey denied, and the girl cackled- a nails on a chalkboard sort of noise.

“Clever little duck,” she mocked as she continued towards them threateningly, “and here I thought you hadn’t had it in you.”

Huey still seemed to be processing the fact that the figure before them wasn’t the girl they’ve occasionally hung out with. Dewey wondered if he’d come across the fact that hide-and-seek had probably just been a cover so she could snoop without worrying about being interrupted.

“But alas,” not-Lena continued, and Dewey knew he saw it before Huey had.

Her hand was glowing the same color as the medallion around her neck, and when she moved so did Dewey. He leapt forward, pushing Huey on the ground a split second before something struck him in the chest. He stumbled backwards as the shadows seemed to swallow him whole, and then there was nothing.

* * *

 

Huey spun from his spot on the ground where Dewey had shoved him, but he barely processed the dull ache at being thrown around so much in a single day. Behind him Dewey stumbled as if getting struck by something before he buckled and started to fall. Huey leapt up to catch him, but one moment it seemed Dewey was there and the next he was not.

_No. No. No. This was wrong. It was all wrong._

“DEWEY!”


	5. The Fall of the McDucks (part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dewey continues to act reckless.

Louie woke with a start.

Webby was hovering above him, face drawn into a concerned mask. Louie blinked back up at her, watching as she released a heavy breath- her eyes softening in relief. It was strange seeing her look so worried as she was usually overflowing with confidence.

That concern worried Louie as something occurred to him- jolting him into panic mood.

He scrambled upwards, latching onto her shoulders and squeezing far harder than necessary. His mind was reeling into dark places, and the fear was eating up inside him. Above them dust rained on their heads.

To Webby’s credit, she didn’t pull away. She seemed to know that he needed this- despite the fact that Louie was squeezing her far too tight. She just guided him back to his feet, hands settling against his wrists as she tried to convey that everything would be alright with her facial expression.

Louie didn’t feel alright. His body ached, and his head was spinning, and he didn’t remember where his brothers were. They weren’t with them as they would have been where Webby currently stood or somewhere nearby. And if they had decided to leave to go find help (which was unlikely as they’d never leave him while he was out) then Webby wouldn’t have looked so worried.

“Webby?” Louie demanded in a slow tone, “Where are Huey and Dewey?”

Webby blinked back at him, mouth opened like she wanted to say something but didn’t know exactly what. Louie felt the bottom of his world fall out as the air sucked out from the room. Louie released Webby’s shoulders as he stumbled backwards. His sweatshirt was suddenly too tight; the collar squeezing around his throat.

“ _Louie!_ ” Webby shouted, her voice wavering the slightest bit so she must have seen something in his face which was weird considering he didn’t feel much of anything at the moment.

When he hatched, Huey and Dewey had already been in the world. And, occasionally, Dewey would get this idea that they should try and be only children for a day, but it had never been a permeant thing. They always managed to find a way back to each other.

Now the thought of a world without them threatened to bring his world crashing back around him. This time it was Webby who reached out and latched onto Louie’s shoulders. It was almost as if she was attempting to ground him, but Louie’s brain had stopped working properly.

It was like it was running far too fast and kept tripping over his thoughts. He was alone with Webby, and it was dark, and they’d all been together before they fell. And they wouldn’t dare leave Louie if there had been even the slightest chance of him being hurt.

“Louie!” Webby repeated, giving his shoulders a sharp shake, “Louie, calm down. I’m sure the others are fine.”

The words helped some. It succeeded in stopping this feeling that he was drowning and offered him something to lean against. Huey and Dewey were fine. They had to be. They were Huey and Dewey.

So, to take his mind off missing brothers, he asked, “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Webby admitted with a lost expression, “Lena made the hall collapse in on itself. I didn’t even know she could do magic. Why would she keep that from me?”

“Probably because she knew something like this was going to happen,” Louie said snappishly as he shoved his hands into his sweatshirt pocket and kept his thoughts on anything except his brothers.

Which now felt impossible considering their absence hung over him like a cloud.

Webby blinked as she adapted the expression of someone who’d just been struck. Louie would have felt guilty- because it was Webby and she was family in everything but blood- if it wasn’t for the fact that Lena had conned and hurt his family. So he did feel bad that Webby was blinking at him with wet eyes but not because he was angry.

He was allowed to be angry, he thought. They were his brothers and they were missing and he didn’t know what had happened to him, but he was getting an increasingly sour feeling in the back his throat. Even still, he could practically hear Huey lecturing him on anger and grudges. He could see Dewey smirking at him knowingly.

Then Louie remembered how Dewey had been keeping secrets from them, and the briefest burst of rage Louie’s ever felt burned through his chest. Then it was over just as quickly as the thought of never seeing either of them again flashed through his mind.

“Webby we have to get out of here,” Louie decided as his voice edged with panic but he somehow managed to keep it together.

Webby blinked, her shock draining from her features, and just like that she was back to being that tough girl they’d met their first day in the mansion. Louie was grateful for that. He was smart enough to know that he needed her to be like that.

“Alright. First things first we need to find a light source,” Webby delegated looking around, “and then we need to find the exit so we can get granny and Uncle Scrooge.”

Louie knew that her plan was the most reasonable, and perhaps the only chance they got at figuring out what was happening and how to fix it. Louie knew this, and he didn’t care. His brothers were down here somewhere, and a crazy Lena was probably looking for them. Therefore Louie’s instinct was to find his brothers so they could all get out together.

Webby tugged at his arm and urged, “Come on Louie. _Please._ ”

Louie relented at just how small Webby sounded. Webby was strong and brave and smart, and she didn’t do lost child but losing her best friend and probably both of Louie’s brothers in a single night- that thought hurt and Louie quickly shoved it away because _Huey and Dewey were okay, they had to be okay_ \- and she still had to be strong because it was obvious Louie was moments from losing it.

Over time he’s gotten better about being brave in the face of danger, and the more adventures he went on with his family the more daring he’s learned to become. That didn’t mean he was like Dewey or Webby, and he’d probably never be like them in that sense, and the thought of losing anymore of his family was enough to remind him of that fact.

And whenever they do find his brothers ( _because they’re_ fine) Lena will discover that, though Webby and the others may be quick to forgive, Louie was not.

* * *

 

Not-Lena was staring down at him with a glittering smile.

Huey stared back in shock. One moment Dewey was there- right there, within touching difference- and the next he was not, all because Huey had frozen up. He hadn’t known what was happening, hadn’t known his own family was keeping secrets from him, and once the anger had started to ebb away his fear had returned.

Dewey had not. Dewey saw him in danger and leapt into action and now Huey didn’t know where he was. Not surprisingly, that was way worse than anything that’s ever happened. Worse than Mom being absent most of their lives. Worse than Uncle Donald hindering from them to doing anything fun. Worse than the unknown and darkness and walls closing in-

“Where’d he go?” Huey heard himself ask- voice small and tight and very much scared.

Not-Lena’s grin impossibly grew as her eyes seemed to flash black. Huey continued to scramble backwards, reaching upwards for his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook. It was purely out of habit, and he felt foolish once he realized what he’d done.

“How about you join him, little boy in red,” Not-Lena crooned as Huey had reached blindly for his book and there was a flash of purple- the same flash Huey remembered seeing strike Dewey- and much like his brother his book seemed to fade from his hands.

Huey let out a surprised squeak, his body suddenly remembering the danger he was in. He scrambled upright and started back in the direction he and Dewey had come from.

“You can run little duck but you can’t hide from me,” Not-Lena’s voice called after him, carrying to where Huey was running.

Huey didn’t stop, refused to think, and focused on sprinting further into the darkness. He wasn’t sure where he was going and didn’t care as long as it was away. And running away proved to serve as a nice distraction from the fact that Dewey had just disappeared- right in front of his eyes.

_Everyone says I’m the most like mom._

_What if she’s a bad person?_

_What if-?_

Dewey didn’t need to say it for Huey to hear it, and Huey knew Dewey had this issue of being afraid of being overlooked or easily forgotten or not being special. It was part of the reason Dewey held so much passion for everything he did and why he seemed to constantly be getting mixed in with the wrong crowd. Even still, it was never much of an issue because Dewey had a strong moral compass and always managed to find his way back to them.

This time was no different. He hadn’t even hesitated to take the blow that was intended for Huey, and now he was just gone. The thought hurt, twisting inside his chest and making breathing difficult as he continued to push his feet forward.

His vision swam even as he wiped feebly at the tears gathering in his eyes. Dewey was gone, and Huey wasn’t sure where he went or if he was in a place where he was capable of coming back.

He tripped and hit the ground with a soft sob. He thinks his palms were scratched upon impact, but he barely felt it. He’d made the mistake of allowing his thoughts to wonder, and now his sadness had started to swallow him whole.

Behind him not-Lena’s threats continued to echo and bounce against the walls. His anger had all but evaporated, replaced by a soul-crushing despair because he’d lost his mother and now it looked as if his brother was gone as well. That feeling kept him rooted even when his brain screamed at him to get moving or else he’d end up like Dewey as well.

Then something really strange happened.

Not-Lena’s voice cut off, leaving silence in its wake. Huey gave another soft sob, tears dripping down on the ground in front of him. He thinks his body was shaking, but it was hard to think of anything while his mind seemed to dissolve into fuzzy blackness.

“Huey!” not-Lena called, “Huey go! Run! Faster! Now!”

The words caught Huey off-guard, and not only because it was the first time she’s used his name. She sounded so urgent all of a sudden- her voice wavering like she was losing control, and it held a certain bite to them. Whatever was happening with Lena she was fighting it, so there was no reason Huey shouldn’t either.

Huey found his feet back underneath him as he lurched forward. He didn’t hear Lena’s voice again, though not-Lena did briefly return in the far distance. Soon even that tempered out, and Huey realized he could stop but something kept him going.

If he was running then he wasn’t thinking and as long as he wasn’t thinking then he wasn’t tumbling into despair over the thought of losing Dewey. And Dewey was fine anyways- they’d find him and get him back after Huey finds the others.

He’d been so consumed in his flight that he hadn’t seen the shadow until it was on top of him. He gave a sharp cry as he found himself tumbling back towards the ground for the third time that night.

“Huey!” Louie’s voice called, “Webby get off him!”

The weight on top of him was lifted as Webby scrambled to help him back to his feet. He brushed himself off before being engulfed by a sobbing Louie. Huey returned the gesture because- honestly- he needed it as much as Louie did in that moment.

“Are you alright?” Webby demanded as she stood beside the brothers with a concerned expression, “Where’s Dewey?”

Huey’s heart sank at the reminder, his face probably matching the sensation because when Louie moved back to search for their third brother he obviously saw something. And Louie was capable of accepting reality gracefully but denial spread across his expression quickly.

“No,” Louie protested as he took a step back, head shaking, “No. He isn’t-”

“Dewey’s fine,” Huey promised and his voice sounded more confident than he felt, “We’ll find him, and he’ll be fine, and then we can yell at him for not telling us about Mom.”

Louie stepped further back, eyes small and head still shaking. Huey doesn’t think Louie was built for this much stress or devastation, and it looked to be finally taking its toll on him. Huey would never want to ask this of him, but they needed to be strong.

“Louie,” Huey reached out, “Are you with me?”

Louie said nothing but Webby did.

“Did you see Lena?” Webby asked, “Is she okay?”

Louie’s face soured at Lena’s name, but he allowed Huey to say, “I’m not sure. It’s like she’s possessed or something. I think she’s trying to fight it though.”

“What’d she do to Dewey?” Louie demanded sudden, voice dripping with a venom Huey hadn’t thought his brother was capable of, “Is he hurt? Did you guys get separated?”

Huey swallowed, a lump forming in the base of his throat. He hadn’t wanted to explain what’d happen just yet because then he’d have to think about it and that meant he needed to remember. And he never wanted to remember what it was like watching your younger brother just fade away in front of your eyes. Like he’d never even existed.

“I- no Louie. He’s just gone,” Huey explained weakly.

Louie’s breath caught in the back of his throat as he almost choked on a sob. Huey held his arms out, and Louie nestled in them quickly once more. Huey felt whatever remained inside him shatter as he enclosed Louie in a secure hold.

“Come on,” Webby urged, “We need to find Scrooge.”

Huey squeezed Louie’s shoulders before releasing him. Louie didn’t let him go completely so Huey decided not to as well.

Not-Lena had already taken one of his brothers, she isn’t taking another.

* * *

 

Dewey woke up cold and his ankle itched.

He blinked back into awareness and saw darkness. Then he remembered what happened and his entire body lurched upwards as he called out Huey’s name. The sound of metal clicking together was his only reply.

Dewey blinked again, rubbing at his eyes before he risked a glance downwards. The chain bracelet around his ankle binding him to the floor was giving a soft blue hue. Dewey pulled his foot closer to himself, but it caught so he figured it had reached its limit.

He’d just had this thought before something heavy and square fell on top his head.

“Ow!” he yelped.

Huey’s Woodchuck Guidebook tumbled into his lap, and he blinked dumbly down at it. Then he looked around as if Huey was standing in the shadows glaring at him. Huey wasn’t anywhere to be seen though and oddly enough Dewey’s heart dropped.

The chain grew brighter, illuminating the rest of the room. It was empty and oddly shaped, the walls coming and going at weird angles. It shouldn’t have made sense logically but something about it all felt normal.

And in the farthest corner sat a familiar figure, legs pulled to her chest and head buried in her knees. Dewey recognized her almost instantly.

“Lena?” he called, crossing his legs and setting the guidebook at his side.

He heard her sniffle before her head rose just so he could meet her eyes. They were bright and red and scared, and Dewey felt his heart drop at the sight of the usually strong girl looking so young. And Dewey was never fond of Lena- thought she could be a bit of a bully and only tolerated her because Webby- but something about her expression reminded him of whenever Louie was scared or sad, and Dewey didn’t like it whenever Louie got scared or sad.

“You okay?” Dewey inquired, the big brother instinct that being Louie’s older brother coming out in his voice.

Lena blinked back, like she was just now realizing he was there. Her eyes remained blank as she seemed to struggle at recalling Dewey’s name. Dewey wasn’t even surprised or angry. He was just tired and wanted nothing more than for all of this to be over.

“Which one are you?” Lena asked, but her voice was void of its usual bite that came with her speaking with Dewey or either of his brothers.

Turns out Lena really never bothered to remember Dewey’s name. Dewey wished he wasn’t accustomed to the sensation of being asked which triplet he was.

“I’m Dewey,” he replied except his voice wasn’t upset or hostile like it usually was, “Where are we?”

Lena blinked once before explaining, “I have this necklace that helps me control my magical powers, and I think my aunt trapped us in it.”

“You’re aunt?”

“My aunt is Magica de Spell,” and at Dewey’s blank expression she continued, “She’s one of Scrooge’s enemies.”

The words still didn’t mean that much to Dewey because Scrooge wasn’t short on enemies. He was more bothered by the implication behind them.

“Your aunt is using you?” Dewey asked.

He couldn’t imagine Uncle Donald treating him or his brothers with anything short of unconditional love. Even when they’d pressed about learning about their mom he just looked at them with a sad expression and drew them in a tight hug because he didn’t want them to be sad.

Lena gave him an odd look, and Dewey realized that look stemmed from the fact that she hasn’t had a positive adult influence in her life. Dewey’s heart sank at the thought, and he was accustomed to feeling like the least valuable family member because he was the only one that didn’t excel at something. He couldn’t imagine how it would have felt if they’d played into his insecurities.

He closed the distance between the two of them, wrapping her in a tight hug. She tensed- unaccustomed to physical contact- but soon melted into his arms. Webby had made it easy. She was the most affectionate person Dewey’s ever met and it was an infectious sort of feeling.

In his hold Lena started to glow a distinct purple color and behind her the wall started to open up. A window emerged inside the wall, revealing a pale round sphere much like the one Selene had given him- except this one emitted a toxic green color.

“What’s that?” Dewey inquired, rising to his feet to take the object in his hands.

Images of his two brothers and Webby reflected back at him. They were running, Huey clutching onto Louie’s wrist as Webby lead them through the darkness. It looked like they were being followed, and it made him nervous.

“It’s sort of like the magical connection between this place and the real world,” Lena explained as she rose to her feet and take the orb from his hands.

Dewey had to rise up on his toes so he could watch as his friend and brothers ran from a danger that had lingered right under their noses without anyone noticing. Dewey should have been there. He needed to be there for his family.

Then a thought occurred to him.

“What happens if this breaks?” Dewey asked, reaching out to take the orb into his hands.

Lena let him as her eyes furrowed together in thought before she said, “It would severe the magical connection.”

“So your aunt wouldn’t be able to use magic?” Dewey pressed as the beginnings of a poorly placed plan started to stitch itself together.

“Maybe,” Lena agreed with the beginnings of suspicion, “though since you’re here she may just separate from me.”

“What does me being here have to do with anything?”

“This prison was created to trap my aunt, but I’d created the doorway,” Lena explained as she took the orb from Dewey and set it back into its window, “Someone has to remain here at all times. First my aunt, then me and now you.”

Dewey, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the orb or his family reflected inside the surface, squinted at it. The thought of being trapped for eternity in this place wasn’t appealing, but the thought of losing his brothers made everything inside him stall to a stop.

“You can’t hide from me little ducks!” Lena’s voice shouted, and the image seemed to quake as screaming echoed inside Dewey’s ears.

“Can you stop this?” Dewey demanded, frightened.

“I can’t,” Lena denied with a shake of her head, “Not here at least.”

“But if something snapped you back there,” Dewey trailed off, eyes flickering towards the orb because that was his family and they were in trouble and every instinct was screaming at him to do something and help them.

“Then my aunt would probably be pushed to Scrooge’s lucky dime,” and at Dewey’s confused expression she clarified, “It had been the last thing they were fighting over for before she disappeared.”

“Uncle Scrooge?” Dewey asked thoughtfully, and Lena finally seemed to understand what he was thinking.

“Dewey- _no_ ,” Lena protested, “You’d be trapped here- probably forever. Defeating my aunt isn’t worth that.”

More screaming echoed from out of the orb, and Dewey felt his insides constrict tightly. He felt sick and he couldn’t not do anything because he was scared about himself.

“I have to help them,” Dewey argued, moving faster than Lena.

“Dewey-” she yelped, leapt towards him in a desperate attempt to stop him.

The orb shattered at their feet and Lena seemed to phase through him, flickering back to herself and leaving Dewey alone.

He told himself that he had to do it. That Uncle Scrooge would be able to handle her aunt, and he knew Uncle Scrooge was more than capable of that- more capable than Webby or either of his brothers. He told himself that he didn’t have any other choice. He couldn’t have risked Magica hurting anyone else.

That didn’t stop the overwhelmingly sense of loneliness from consuming him as the room faded back to darkness.

* * *

 

“No!” Lena finished but Dewey was no longer there to hear him.

She was back in the tunnel underneath Scrooge’s mansion, her necklace cracked and broken. She ripped it from around her throat, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes because Dewey had done it. He’d severed the connection Lena had been so desperate to free herself from.

But nobody deserved to be a casualty in that particular family matter.

Yet he’d seen his own family in danger, and he’d just reacted. Several months ago Lena would have thought that concept was preposterous- family didn’t help other family unless there was a personal gain from it- but the longer she stuck around Webby and the triplets the more she realized that that might have just been her family. More specifically- her aunt.

Somewhere her voice found words and she cried out, almost subconsciously, “Webby!”

There was a long pause of silence that made Lena’s knees weak as her tears freed themselves from her eyes. Then-

“Lena?”

And Lena finally broke.


	6. The Fall of the McDucks (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dewey realizes what he's been missing with Huey's JWG, Huey and Louie's usual roles are reversed and there's a surprising hero.

They found Lena alone, on her knees clutching some sort of necklace with tears streaming down her face. It was strange seeing the normally strong older girl look so stricken by something and it gave Huey a momentary pause.

“Lena!” Webby cried, rushing forward to console her friend.

Louie caught her arm, face set in a hard glare. He didn’t look sympathetic nor did he seem to notice the older girl’s tears. Or maybe he didn’t care. After all, it had been some form of Lena who’d sent them down here and it was sort of Lena’s fault that Huey had to tell Louie they were going to have to walk out with one less brother they had walking in.

It just didn’t seem like Lena’s fault. Or, at least, not completely.

“Webby, no,” Louie told her, and Webby didn’t fight him or try to pull away.

She blinked back at him, face contorted into an uncertain mask. Louie just drew her gently back to them, eyes narrowed and hard as he continued to glare at Lena. Lena barely glanced up at them, just held her broken necklace near her as she made soft choking sounds.

“Lena?” Huey asked, voice void of emotion, “Lena, what happened? Where’s Dewey?”

The name seemed to trigger something in Lena as the broken sounds she was making stopped, and she blinked up at him. She didn’t bother trying to wipe her face or make herself look any more presentable but the sniffling had ceased.

“He’s gone,” Lena told them, “Trapped.”

“Where?” Louie snapped, “What’d you do to him?”

Lena shook her head again. She didn’t speak but it was almost like she didn’t have to. Not when every time her eyes met Huey’s they’d gone from the strong independent teenager who doesn’t care about anyone or anything to the sympathetic girl who knew and didn’t want to tell them.

Dewey was gone. Huey wasn’t sure how she knew or what had happened, but he knew she believed that Dewey had gone somewhere that he wasn’t coming back from. And Huey finally felt something inside his brain snap.

“You _liar!_ ” he screamed, vision bleeding to red and it was him Louie and Webby had to hold back, “He’s not gone! He _isn’t!_ ”

Fingers dug into his arms as he jerked himself forward and if it hadn’t been for his friend and brother than there was no telling what he’d try to do to Lena- what Lena would have let him do. Then, as abruptly as it started, the violent urge to make Lena hurt like he knew he was about to hurt died. His entire body went limp as grief started to eat his insides.

“No,” he muttered pathetically, “He can’t be. He’s Dewey. He can’t be gone _._ ”

Louie’s grasp on him wavered as it started to sink in with him as well. Huey needed to get it together soon because Louie will need comfort but for the moment he allowed himself to be swallowed whole. Webby was the only one who seemed to linger in denial.

She jerked him back up, trying to get him to stand on his feet, as she proclaimed, “We found Magica, and we found Lena. We can find Dewey too.”

“Yeah,” Louie agreed firmly.

And Huey wanted to believe it but every time he looked at Lena all he saw was that lingering fact that Dewey’s endless stream of good luck had finally run out. He was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.

Huey’s brain dissolved into white static.

* * *

 

The dark was almost numbing. It was quiet and still and the longest Dewey thinks he’s ever been by himself. That realization sent ice rushing through his veins.

He liked being surrounded by others, and though it was true that he occasionally yearned to stand out from his brothers or this lost memory of their mom or even Webby he never wanted to go at it by cutting himself from everyone’s lives completely.

He didn’t regret what he did. He could still see fragments of it playing out in the broken shards: Lena was free and reunited with the others and Magica had found her way to Scrooge who was promptly taking care of her. His family was safe, and that was all that truly mattered.

It was just that spending an eternity here suddenly seemed so much more daunting than before.

Dewey released a heavy breath, squeezing his legs closer to his chest. His cheek was propped against his knees, arms folded around them securely as the adrenaline dropped into boredom.

Perhaps it was for the best and maybe he deserved this. He had, after all, kept the secret of their mom from his brothers for partial selfish reasons, and he’s usually the one causing mischief or strife. Maybe his family will function better now that he’s not in it.

He pressed himself closer to the rest of his body, squeezing his eyes shut and willing the thoughts away.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know his family loved him or worried or whatever. He knew they’d spend a good portion of their lives trying to find ways to free him, but eventually reality will catch up with them and he hopes they can learn to be happy knowing he had been lost to them.

Just like Della.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured lowly though he knew no one was going to hear him, “I’m sorry. _I’m sorry._ ”

His voice cracked and his eyes burned and he no longer cared. The darkness continued to press into him, and he no longer felt flighty with the adrenaline thrumming through his veins. He only felt the cold bite into his arms and legs, making itself known.

Then the chain around his ankle pulled, jerking his leg out from under him unexpectedly as he was forced out of his pitying mood. He gave a sharp yelp as the chain pulled again, dragging him from the wall and further into the darkness.

Dewey scrambled for some sort of purchase, but the floor was smooth and flawless and he sliced his palm on a broken shard. He hissed, instinctively drawing his hand to his chest as he continued to drag across the floor. Something bumped his elbow, and he grabbed for it as he suddenly remembered Huey’s Junior Woodchuck Guide had made its way with him.

That thought probably should warrant some thought, but all he felt was gratefulness at its familiar weight.

He twisted his body so he was lying on his back and slammed the edge of the book as hard as he could against the chain around his ankle. It clanged but remained firm so he struck it again. And again. And again. Until finally it snapped with a loud clanging noise before the rest of the chain slivered away, like it was a living thing.

Dewey scrambled the other way, clutching his brother’s precious book to his chest with his none bleeding hand. He had dented the bottom of it, but that was fine. He’d get Huey a new one if he ever made his way out of this place.

He managed to find himself back against the wall he’d been drug from, trying to control his heavy breathing for any signs of something that just attempted dragging him towards his untimely doom. The only thing he heard, however, was a soft clicking noise.

“Alright,” he panted, using the faint light the broken shards offered as he flipped opened Huey’s guidebook, “Huey always says you have the answers to everything. Now would be a good time to give me some answers.”

It did not disappoint.

He found a section on cursed objects as well as something that looked to be written in a different language. He picked up a shard from the floor, held it out in front of him and tried reciting the jumbled nonsense on the page. The shard pulsed with the words before bursting in a fireworks display of light.

Dewey gave a small unpleasant cry of surprise, palm itching and eyes burning, as he shielded his face. Around him the shadows seemed to fizzle and dissolve from existence as the light continued to burn a soft bluish glow.

“Okay,” he breathed as his eyes found the mangled remains of his chains before sliding to what appeared to be a doorway, “Let’s see if there’s an exit after all.”

He ripped the sleeve of his shirt to wrap around his hand, tucked the guidebook under his arm, moved forward and didn’t look back. Not even once.

* * *

 

Granny found them first, having heard when the hallway caved in on itself and immediately went to seek them out. She didn’t say anything to them about Dewey or Magica, but Webby suspected those were next on her list of concerns.

Instead her eyes flickered over the four of them before she announced, “Let’s go make you children some hot coco.”

Huey, who was leaning heavily against Louie, just made a soft disgruntled noise. The rims of his eyes were bright and swollen, and he hadn’t said anything since trying to attack Lena. Webby worried it was because he believed Dewey was truly lost to them. Whenever she found Louie’s eyes she knew he felt much the same.

It had also been weird finding their way through the tunnels without Dewey, the absence of his bright personality sucking what little light remained in this world but they couldn’t risk lingering on those thoughts. Or they’d all lie there and perish and Webby _knew_ Dewey wouldn’t want that.

So she pushed it all back, helped Lena to her feet and got them moving. Louie followed her lead.

He still seemed to believe, which was good because Webby knew that if he’d allowed himself to fall like Huey had then there would have been no way Webby was getting all four of them out. Louie had securely clasped onto Huey and followed Webby for their search of an exit.

Granny had found them sometime after that and ushered them the rest of the way out. True to her word she brought them to the kitchen where she sat them all down and fixed them each a giant cup of hot coco with marshmallows and whipped cream and sprinkles before commanding them to stay where they were.

She left again, probably to find Scrooge or Donald and tell them they were safe ( _minus one and Webby’s chest did a funny sort of twist at the reminder of their missing piece_ ) so Webby focused her attention on tentatively sipping the beverage.

Louie was less subtle, and Webby supposed everyone had a breaking point. This seemed to be Louie’s.

He set the cup on the table, next to Huey’s who had just taken to staring blankly at it, as he turned to Lena and demanded, “Where’s my brother?”

“Check next to you,” Lena responded dully, cup in her hands but she wasn’t drinking from it; her eyes had taken a glassy appearance and she didn’t seem to be all there.

Louie’s eyes narrowed at her words and even Webby felt the twist of anxiousness swell in her belly. This wasn’t a time for Lena’s sarcasm or dry wit however much Webby loved her for it. Dewey was still missing- a weight that dangled above all them heavily.

“You know what I meant,” Louie ground out, “Where’s Dewey?”

Lena’s eyes flickered to meet his before falling back to her drink; she gave a one shoulder shrug and responded, “Gone.”

“But gone where?” Webby intercepted because tears were welling in the corners of Louie’s eyes, and he’s held it together this long but how much more?

Lena only shook her head.

Huey was the one who said, “He disappeared. Right in front of my eyes, and I’d thought he’d only gone somewhere we could eventually follow but now I know. He isn’t coming back.”

Louie slamming both his fists on the table startled all of them. Webby jumped in her seat, spilling chocolate on her skirt. White foam overflowed from Huey and Louie’s cups as it stained Scrooge’s kitchen table and Louie’s tears had finally found their out.

“Louie?” Huey inquired as he blinked and realized where they were.

“Quit saying he’s gone,” Louie said, “He isn’t. We’d know if he was so _stop._ ”

Huey’s hand fell onto Louie’s shoulder as he whispered, “Aw Lou. I’m so sorry.”

Louie leapt away like Huey’s touch burnt him, and he was looking more and more like a cornered animal as he softly sobbed, “You sound like you’ve just given up on him. That’s not okay.”

His voice cracked and Huey’s shoulders slumped. They needed a third person- a mediator- but their mediator was gone. Webby’s body grew weak at that thought. Neither brother said anything as they just stood there, silently falling into the ever increasing despair surrounding them.

Then, as if on cue, Dewey’s voice filled the shrinking space.

“I’m sorry for never believing in you before,” he said, voice flickering, “I just always thought Huey was being a dork when he said you have the answers to everything. And I’m sorry for bending your cover but you did save my life so…”

He trailed off and his words didn’t make much sense, but Webby’s eyes turned towards the source eagerly anyways. From the corners of her eyes she saw Huey and Louie follow her lead, the three of them turning towards the broken necklace Lena was clutching in her hand. Lena’s eyes were wide in her own amazement before reality caught up with them.

“Dewey!” Huey and Louie screamed together, leaping towards Lena.

Webby echoed their sentiment, tossing her cup on the table as they circled around the older teen. Lena didn’t seem to notice as she held the necklace to her face.

The purple gem seems to have fractured. Long ugly cracks spider webbed across the ruined surface and, reflected in that surface, was Dewey’s face. Webby actually counted three Deweys, and maybe some other time she’d think that was two too many but now it only had her heart soaring.

“Dewey!” Huey continued to call as his fingers scrambled for the object.

Lena let him have it. Huey immediately pressed it against his chest as he continued to call his brother’s name. Dewey, who looked to have been walking, stopped and glanced around him nervously.

“Huey?” he tried, “If you’re real than tell me Louie’s real name.”

“Llewellyn,” Huey said instantly, the same time Louie made a sharp protesting sound.

Dewey’s shoulders slumped as he asked, “Are you trapped here too? Lena had made it sound like it was only me.”

Even by himself and in an impossible situation Dewey was thinking of his family. It made Webby’s chest tight.

Huey gave a soft sob even as he reassured quickly, “No. I’m not trapped.”

“Oh,” Dewey responded, eyes flickering and head turning before he finally found them; he gave a soft cry of fright as he tossed something in their general direction and his image flicked out.

That didn’t seem to matter to them as Webby remembered something she’d snuck into the mansion long ago. Dewey was alive and relatively fine and they were going to get him back- it was that simple.

* * *

 

It was sort of like a maze except it didn’t make any logical sense. The further Dewey walked the more it became clear that he was just going in this weird defies-all-physics circle ( _and he really hated that that he was even thinking about physics because school and being smart was Huey’s thing but Huey wasn’t there because Huey_ hated _him for keeping that secret about Mom. Louie too, probably._ )

So after spending far too long trying to make sense of this place he resigned himself to just rifling through Huey’s guidebook. There wasn’t really anything inside it to help with a maze that didn’t want to be solved and his attempts at scribbling a map on one of the blank sheets in the back was a failure.

The magical orb he’d created using some weird spell from the guidebook followed him around emitting a soft blue glow, lighting up the darkened hallways and chasing away the almost malevolent shadows and the loneliness was starting to affect him mentally.

“I’m sorry for never believing in you before,” he whispered to the book, “I just always thought Huey was being a dork when he said you have the answers to everything. And I’m sorry for bending your cover but you did save my life so…”

He trailed off, not sure what was left to say. It wasn’t like the book could respond, and whenever he caught himself doing it he felt foolish.

“Dewey!” his brothers’ voices suddenly called from seemingly nowhere.

For the slightest second Dewey was afraid he’d finally gone insane and was imagining his family’s voices.

“Dewey!” Huey’s voice shouted, “Dewey!”

Dewey stopped, confused. Huey sounded right there- within reaching distance and nothing good could come from the reason behind that.

“Huey?” he asked, feeling foolish, “If you’re real than tell me Louie’s real name.”

“Llewellyn,” Huey’s voice told him instantly- without hesitation- and Louie was next to make a sharp sound of protest.

Dewey’s heart sank as a new fear threatened to overcome him, “Are you trapped here too? Lena had made it sound like it was only me.”

Huey made a wet sound as he explained, “No. I’m not trapped.”

“Oh,” Dewey whispered, eyes flickering and head turning in search of the source of his brothers’ voices; he found it beside him, Huey’s face lighting the center of the orb.

Dewey startled, throwing the guidebook almost instinctively. It smacked against the orb, smothering out the light and engulfing him back into the darkness. Dewey’s shoulders slumped pathetically as the implication behind what he’d just done engulf him.

* * *

 

Lena’s necklace was cold in her hands, but the beginnings of _something_ had started warming up the corners of her brain since Dewey’s face had shown up in it. She hadn’t thought anybody other than her and her aunt knew magic, but Dewey was always quick at proving her wrong.

After he’d destroyed whatever minimal connection he’d managed to (albeit accidently) create Huey had handed her necklace back. He looked better than before, although only slightly. His pupils were still shrunken and he looked dangerously close to falling back into shock.

Louie, who she’d have already expected to have fallen apart, set his hand on his brother’s arm. It was that same sort of comfort she’d seen them give each other whenever they felt the other needed it. It wasn’t the first time it made her yearn for siblings- for a _family_ \- like that. The realization that she didn’t, and Dewey did also made Lena’s desire to fix this relight and _burn_ inside her chest.

“Hey Webby,” Lena spoke, “You wouldn’t happen to still have that spell book, would you?”

Webby meet her gaze, and she must have figured out the beginnings of Lena’s plan because she gave her knowing smirk.

* * *

 

Dewey couldn’t be certain how long he sat there in the darkness, but the next thing he was aware of was the wall across from him suddenly burning a bright purple. Dewey unburied his head from his arms to look at it curiously.

The color grew more vibrant and rich in color, more grounded in reality than the feeble blue light Dewey had created earlier. Then a moment later Lena’s silhouette emerged before solidifying into her distinct features.

“Lena?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“Dewey?” she asked back, “I think I figured another way out, but you need to find this symbol.”

The image changed, morphing into what appeared to be the back of a dime. Dewey squinted at but the promise of an escape made his heart soar upwards once more.

He scrambled to his feet and nodded, “Got it. What’re you going to do?”

“I’m going to find your uncle’s lucky dime.”

Then she was gone once more, leaving only a pinpoint of purple light. Dewey rose to his feet as the ball of light zipped down the hall, obviously in search of something. Dewey tucked Huey’s guidebook under his arm and scrambled after it.

It stopped in front of a wall, and Dewey had to slide to a stop. His feet skidded across the ground and he almost toppled over but managed to stay on his feet.

“What is it?” Dewey asked, reaching out to place his palm against the smooth surface.

It emitted a bright blue light as the hall began to shake around him. Dewey blinked, retracting his hand and staring blankly as the wall began to recede in on itself. It opened up into a small room, about the size of a closet, and at the far end was the symbol of the dime.

Dewey grinned and cheered, “Thank you Lena.”

He stepped into the room, the world tilting dangerously. The wall closed back behind him, sealing him in the room with only Lena’s purple light.

“Alright Lena,” Dewey whispered to no one in particular, “Where’s the rest of this plan of yours?”

And, almost as if she could hear him, the dime started to emit a low orange color. Dewey blinked at it, entranced, as the purple light zoomed past him. It collided with the dime, melting in with the orange and something inside Dewey’s chest caught. Jerked him forward.

His feet slipped across the smooth surface, and it was like someone had tied an invisible rope around his chest and started to pull him towards the symbol. He wasn’t scared, though. For the first time since this thing started he felt calm.

Dewey struck the symbol, and he fell.

It sort of felt like swimming except he could breathe and it was dark and Dewey felt at peace. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to be drug along, and then he reached the end.

He hit solid ground suddenly, his body rolling instinctively as he continued to hug Huey’s guidebook to his chest. He landed on his bottom, legs splayed in front of him as he blinked in confusion. He was back in Uncle Scrooge’s mansion, surrounded by his family and when his eyes landed on his brothers he suddenly remembered the fight and the anger and he’d wished he was back in that place. It was probably safer than facing both his brothers’ wrath.

Huey stepped forward, body shaking and eyes wide, before he lurched towards him. Dewey yanked the guidebook in between them in a protective gesture.

Huey wasn’t going to attack him, though. Huey wasn’t even angry; he just engulfed him in a tight hug, pressing him close as his entire body shook. The spot he’d buried his head was growing wet and Dewey was growing concerned.

“Huey? You okay?” Dewey asked.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Huey begged, “I thought I’d lost you. Don’t make me lose you. Please. Promise me.”

Dewey’s chest tightened as he asked, “You’re not still angry with me?”

Huey pulled away, shaking his head before his eyes fell towards Dewey’s the red stained shirt still tied around Dewey’s hand; he lifted it up and demanded, “What’s this?”

And Dewey floundered- momentarily- for the right words but then Louie and Webby were there tackling them in another hug. Dewey fell backwards as the weight of his family weighed down on him.

Dewey missed them. He nuzzled into their warmth, their presence, and allowed himself to relish in it for a moment longer. Then he blinked and realized Lena was standing over them. Her arms were crossed and though she was smiling she still looked out of place and awkward.

Dewey pushed everybody up so he could sit up. They let him but refused to let go. Dewey didn’t mind so much about that- had spent too much time by himself in the dark thinking he was never going to come back here. That he was never going to see these people again.

“Hey Lena,” he said, earning the older girl’s attention as he held his hand out, “Thanks.”

She accepted it, and he jerked her into the hug. She only hesitated for a moment before sinking in Dewey’s arms.

“Anytime Baby Blue.”

And for the first time in Dewey’s life, he didn’t mind someone not remembering his name.


End file.
